Last Chances
by In The Beginning
Summary: The door's locked; the nightmare's over. Or so Coraline thinks. But even villains can get one last chance... Five years after the movie. Slight CoralinexWybie
1. Doors

(I knew this was going to happen, eventually.

I loved Coraline far more than any movie I've seen in the past three years. No joke. The idea came to me in a dream for this story, as do most stories of mine.

Just a question, though: Where did he get the idea for the name Wybie?

Coraline © Neil Gaiman

Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter One: Doors

* * *

"Hm... got any fours?"

"Nope! Go fish."

"Aw, man..."

Coraline laughs, a grin plastered on her face as Wybie reluctantly draws another card.

"Not so smug now, are you, Wybie?" she taunts, waving her cards around. "_I_ only have three cards left. How many do _you_ have? Seven? Eight?"

"I haven't lost yet!" he protests, his face reddening slightly.

Coraline can't help but smirk as she looks back down at her hand.

Nearly five years have passed since they threw the key in the well, and the right hand with it. Coraline's life has been free of any _real_ worries since then; after all, her parents' idiosyncrasies are nothing compared to the terror that the Other Mother could inspire.

She hasn't been in the parlor room since she locked the door.

"Got any sevens?"

Her friend grumbles, handing over the card.

Wybie's grandma has relaxed a lot in the past five years; Coraline still remembers a time when Wybie wouldn't come over on a cold rainy night such as this to keep her company, all because of the constant fear of a death that would never really have come.

"Got any aces?"

She still wonders if it has something to do with his grandma thinking that Coraline is "A nice, sweet girl." She hopes the adults aren't trying to set them up, but doubts her parents even know what a social life is, much less their daughter's.

"Here you go, Wybie. Got any... twos?"

Wybie's eyes dart back and forth between Coraline's one card and the two in his hand.

"Go Fish," he says."

"Show me your hand!" the blue-haired girl demands.

"No way!" he counters, holding his cards close to him.

"Hey, wait a minute, you asked for a two earlier! Let me see your hand!"

"Y-you remember—hey, you haven't drawn a card since then! You had that two when I asked for it!"

"Give me that card, Wybourne!"

"Not on your life!"

And so the chase begins; Coraline dashes after Wybie, whose past experiences with her half-righteous fury keeps him constantly out of her reach. Besides, _he's_ been running around since he was four; Coraline, however, knows her house almost as well as herself, and certainly better than Wybie does.

She corners him in the parlor room.

"Ha! Gotcha now, _Wybourne,_" she smirks, stepping closer. "Hand it over."

"No way!" he shakes his head, backing against the wall, standing in front of the door.

"Wybie Lovat, if you don't give me that card, I'll—!"

"Well, I'm not giving it to you until you at least admit you cheated!"

"Oh, fine!"

Pouting, Coraline crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"I, Coraline Jones, was up to no good, and tried to deceive you to win at Go Fish," she rattles off, snatching the two of clubs from Wybie's hand as she finishes up her confession. "You know, you did the same thing last time."

"Oh, I guess I did, didn't I?" the brunette shrugs, chuckling slightly as he rubs the back of his head.

The loud chimes of the clock in the living room start them both.

"Aw... it's getting pretty late. I better go home," Wybie mumbles, the faint smile disappearing from his face and leaving him with a downcast expression. "I'm probably already late for dinner, knowing my luck..."

"Yeah, well, at least you don't have to fend for yourself," his blue-haired friend rolls her eyes in response, walking with him through the halls to the front door.

"When do your parents come back from their...?"

"It's a business trip, and not till next week. I'm starting to run out of microwave dinners, I'm going to have to _actually_ start cooking soon."

"Don't invite me over for that!"

"You haven't changed at all!" Coraline scoffs, punching Wybie square in the shoulder as she opens the door for him. "You're just as annoying as when I first met you."

"Yeah, but you must like me a little more, because this is the first time you've hit me in a while!" he mutters, rubbing his shoulder as he steps outside, picking his bike up on the porch and carrying it with him to level ground.

"What?"

"Huh? I didn't say anything!"

Coraline shakes her head.

"Hey, Coraline—that little door in that back room?"

"What about it?" she asks, leaning against the doorframe.

She hopes he won't ask where it goes. Wybie might have guessed, but she never actually told him that was the door for the key they got rid of.

"Is that thing locked? 'Cause it's leaking cold air like crazy, I thought my feet were gonna freeze! You might wanna get it fixed before it gets cold out!"

With that, he pedals off, braving the rain that falls on him from above and the mud that splashes up from below.

Coraline sighs as she closes the door behind her, only barely remembering to lock it as well.

_"It's leaking cold air like crazy!"_

"Why would it do that?" she wonders aloud, hazel eyes narrowing in thought. "All that's behind it now are bricks..."

Or so she tells herself. She can't bear to look into the parlor as she walks past, though.

"Hmph. Wybie forgot his mask," the teen girl frowns as she enters the kitchen, picking the aforementioned object up off the table and setting it on the counter. "Guess he's coming over tomorrow, too. You're lucky you're really not that annoying anymore, Wybourne."

She grabs a can of soup from the cupboard, setting it down beside the mask as she searches for a bowl.

There's a light scratching sound at the window that makes her look up.

"Staying here for the night, are you, Cat?" Coraline can't help but chuckle, even though she doubts he can hear her. "Give me a minute."

Finding a clean bowl in the dishwasher, she opens the soup can and pours its contents into the dish, then pops the dish in the microwave for two minutes. Only then does she go to unlock the front door again.

Cat darts in, shaking as much water out of his fur as he can before sauntering off to the kitchen.

"Aw, got a little wet, Cat?" Coraline teases, ignoring the disgruntled expression on the feline's face. "Relax, I got some food for you. One day Mom's going to wonder where all the milk goes, 'cause she doesn't drink it and I barely do."

She places a saucer on the ground before pouring milk into it. As Cat drinks, the teen girl puts the milk away just in time for the microwave to go off.

"Looks like we're eating together, huh?"

_No, not really,_ she can practically hear him say as she brings her own dinner to the table. _After all, we're not sharing the same food, so we're not really eating together, are we?_

It doesn't bother her as she eats, listening to the rain splash against the windows and the sides of the house.

"I think tomorrow, I'm going to go exploring," Coraline announces for nobody's benefit. "After all this rain, there's going to be worms everywhere. Wybie's going to love that, and Mom's not here to say no. 'You'll track mud in the house, Coraline Jones!' she'd tell me, and then she'd make me take another shower. As if getting up _early_ for a shower wasn't bad enough."

For a moment, she stares off into space, thoughtful.

"I wonder what she and Dad are doing right now. Do you think it's raining in Seattle?"

Cat doesn't answer, but abandons his dish to rub up against the teen's legs.

"It probably is. I heard it's always raining in Washington."

Nevertheless, she lets out a sigh, dropping her spoon into her mostly-empty bowl.

"You done?" she asks, picking up the saucer on the floor. "I don't want to step on it in the morning and break it."

Cat merely looks up at Coraline, flicking his tail only slightly.

She puts all the dishes in the sink, not bothering to wash them as she instead traipses upstairs. Cat follows her, weaving in between her legs when she reaches the top step.

"Well, thanks for waiting until I got up here to try and trip me," she smiles, turning the corner and walking into her room. "Where've you been lately, anyway? Wybie said he hadn't seen you in a while, so... did you just run off to someone else for a while or what?"

This she asks as she peels off her sweater, exchanging it for her pink pajama top. She searches for her pajama pants; they seem to have vanished somewhere into the mess that carpets the floor of her room.

She's tired. She'll sleep in her jeans tonight.

"You know, Wybie said that the door is leaking air," Coraline frowns, sitting down beside Cat.

He looks out the window.

"The little door in the parlor room, I meant."

He looks to her, blue eyes widening slightly.

"I think he's crazy," the girl sighs, falling back onto the bed. "She's dead, isn't she? She has to be. She said she'd die without me, and she didn't get me. But... I was kinda scared to go back into that room."

Cat lightly steps over, curling up next to her pillow, looking at the teen with a serious expression.

"...thanks for staying," she half-smiles, scratching behind his ears.

She gets a purr in response before she closes her eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep.

* * *

(End chapter one.

I have to admit, I liked writing this chapter. I'm really excited about writing more of this fic.

Please review!)


	2. Intelligence

(It's been a while since I was this excited about writing a story!

I have to say, I'm floored by the support you're all giving me. Thank you so much! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

Grandma, Coraline, Cat © Neil Gaiman(he belonged to Gaiman last chapter too, I just forgot)

Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Two: Intelligence

* * *

In his dreams, he hears a voice calling for him—a voice calling so loud, it wakes him up.

Wybie hasn't had a straight night of sleep in a while, so this isn't entirely new to him. In fact, he's gotten quite used to the voice calling him in the middle of the night—usually female, for some reason, but sometimes it's a guy talking.

He never really remembers what the voices tell him, but it's never really bothered him in the first place. If it were important, after all, he figures he'd remember it.

He looks over at the alarm clock on his nightstand.

_1:23 AM_

A little earlier this time. Maybe he'll fall back asleep a little earlier? He's hoping that's the case. Wybie wants to get up before all the worms go back underground. He just got a new camera, too. He might not be able to make a worm circus like Mr. Bobinsky's mouse circus, but he can try to gross Coraline out with a bowl of moving pasta.

It wouldn't work, of course. Coraline has a stronger stomach than that.

There's a scratching sound at his window that overpowers the sound of rain on the roof. He sits up, looking over to see what's making the noise.

"Where've you been, you crazy cat?" Wybie asks, shaking his head as he gets up to open the window. "You're lucky I was awake, or you'd have to sleep outside in this nasty rain—"

As soon as he opens the window, Cat leaps down, weaving in between the teen's legs before walking over to the closed door, pawing at it and meowing loudly.

"No, I'm not going to feed you now," the brunette replies, his voice slightly cross. "It's one thirty! I'll wake up my grandma. Do you _want_ me to get in trouble?"

Cat's pawing turns into clawing, and his meows grow louder as his wide blue eyes go back and forth from Wybie to the door.

"Okay, okay, fine! Man, I find all the crazy animals..."

He opens the door, and quietly follows after Cat down the stairs. He tries not to wake up his grandma on his way to the kitchen...

When he sees her sitting at the table, drinking tea, he can't help but let out a startled cry.

"Grandma?! I thought you were sleeping!"

"I was, until the rain made my joints start to ache again," his grandma replies, sighing as she takes another sip from her cup. "And why are you up, Wybourne? You should be sleeping. You're still a growing boy!"

"I'm sixteen, grandma," Wybie shakes his head, "and it's a Saturday anyways! This dumb cat woke me up. I'm hoping that if I feed him, he'll let me sleep again."

Cat sits at the windowsill, looking in the direction of Coraline's house, his bushy tail thrashing about.

"That cat again, eh? You know, cats are very smart animals. You should be careful what you call them. Here, kitty..."

"Yeah, I know," her grandson mumbles, grabbing a can of tuna from the pantry as Cat decides to accept his grandma's entreaties, "but I was trying to sleep, and I thought he was gonna wake you up, so..."

He trails off, choosing to spend his efforts on opening the can. Cat keeps staring out the kitchen window, but purrs quietly as his grandma pets his wet black fur.

"Hm... when I was a little girl, I used to have a cat very much like this. The same bright blue eyes..."

"Maybe it's the same cat," Wybie jokes, looking for the dish he's set aside for the feline now sitting on the kitchen table.

"Don't be silly, Wybourne. Cats only live for... hm?"

Wybie looks over to see his grandma looking at her hand.

"What is it, Grandma?" he asks, concerned.

"This cat's been hurt. Look, he was bleeding."

_Bleeding?_

He looks down at his ankles—

Watery bloodstains cling to his pajama pants.

Cat leaps back down the the floor, rubbing against Wybie's leg before walking to the front door and scratching at it.

"You can't let that cat back outside in this weather. He'll get sick!" his grandma announces, getting up to wash her hands in the sink. "Especially if he's been hurt..."

Other thoughts are entering Wybie's mind—memories, more specifically, of him and Coraline talking to each other.

_"You know, that cat can talk."_

_"I'm sure he can, Jonesy."_

_"Don't call me that! Not in this world—he can't do much in this world except be a cat. But in the other world, the one with the Beldam, he can talk just like you and me. And he's pretty smart, too."_

_"Oh yeah? Did he help you escape?"_

_"Yeah, but I should've listened to him when I went to get rid of the key. He tried to make me wait 'till later, but I went anyways. Lucky for me you were out being weird, or else she might've dragged me back to her world..."_

He steps into the hallway and stares at Cat.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" the brunette whispers, watching Cat stare right back at him.

The wide blue eyes never blink for as long as Wybie looks at them.

"...Hey, Grandma?" he begins, opening the closet by the front door and grabbing his long black coat. "I'm... going to bring this cat over to Coraline's house, alright?"

"You are _not!_" the old woman cries, hobbling out of the kitchen and into the hall, where her grandson is busy pulling on his shoes. "You're not going anywhere at this time, and in this weather! At the very least, you'll wake up Coraline!"

"I won't knock on her door or anything!" Wybie shakes his head. "I'm just going to bring the cat over and put him on her porch! That way, he'll be outside but somewhere dry, and in the morning, Coraline can take care of him!"

"You'll get sick!"

"I won't get sick, Grandma, I promise! And I'll come back right away. I won't be gone that long at all!"

His grandma groans.

"Wybourne Lovat, where _do_ you get these ideas from?"

"Please? I'll come back right away and go straight back to bed, I promise. But I have to do this."

Wybie stands up, digging in his coat pockets for his gloves.

Five years have given him more than five inches in height; habit keeps him hunched over, so that seven inches looks more like four. Still, his grandma has to look up to look him in the eye now, and she can't help but realize that he's grown. He's not her "little" grandson anymore.

"Oh, very well," she sighs, admitting defeat. "But you be careful! You know how dangerous it gets when it's muddy out there."

"I will. Thanks, Grandma!"

He opens the door, stepping outside before closing it behind himself and Cat.

"Alright then, you crazy feline," the teen frowns, walking around to the side of the house to get his motored bike. "Grandma and Coraline talk about how smart you are, so I guess it's time to prove it to me. Where are we going?"

Cat shoots off in the direction of Coraline's house, and Wybie follows, the motor revving loudly over the sound of the falling rain.

* * *

(End chapter two.

This chapter took a bit longer than I expected it to. But that's okay!

Please review!)


	3. Surprises

(I'm still in awe of your support. Thank you very, very much, everyone!

Cat © Neil Gaiman

Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Three: Surprises

* * *

Wybie takes one look at the multiple lit windows and shakes his head.

"What's your problem then, you crazy cat?" he demands, bringing his bike onto the porch to protect it from the rain. "She's still awake! You're not really all that smart then, are you?"

Cat, already clawing at the door, turns his head to give Wybie a dirty look before looking back towards the door.

"Okay, fine, you wanna go in. I get it," the brunette sighs, knocking loudly on the door with a gloved fist. "If she kills me, I'm blaming you and your supposed intelligence—!"

The door suddenly swings open at the touch of a hand.

"...but she always locks the door at night," he mutters to himself, pulling his hand away from the door and tapping his fingertips together nervously. "Should I go in...?"

He looks down to see that Cat already has, and sits in the entrance hall, waiting.

"...hey, Coraline?" Wybie calls out as he steps inside, closing the door behind him. "Sorry for coming over so late, but your 'really smart' cat brought me over because he was freaking out at my house! Are you alright?"

Aside from Cat's low growl of frustration, no sound answers his call.

"...Coraline? Are you even here?"

He starts to climb the stairs, and makes it up five steps before a bolt of lightning flashes—

He cries out, whirling back around as darkness instantly surrounds him.

Wybie can handle darkness. Wybie can handle solitude.

Wybie can't handle darkness _and_ solitude, _especially_ when he expects light and company.

And especially when they come so suddenly.

"It's just... a power outage," he reassures himself, easing his grip on the bannister. "Why are you so paranoid about a power outage, huh? On a day like this, it should've happened sooner...!"

Nevertheless, he can't shake the suffocating grip of fear that slowly seizes him.

"I think I''ll go home now," Wybie comments aloud, stepping back down the stairs and shuffling over to the door. "She probably just forgot to turn off the lights before she went to bed, and—"

He steps on a tail, and feels sharp teeth and claws digging into his leg.

"_Ow!_"

Only when he picks his foot up off the ground does Cat take his fangs out of the teen's leg, slowly walking off with his bushy tail held high in the air.

"Man, what do you want, you crazy cat?" he groans, reluctantly following the feline up to a mirror in the hall. "I just wanna go home now..."

Cat rubs up against the leg he bit and clawed before sitting next to it, staring intently into the mirror.

"What, is this mirror magic or something?" the brunette forces himself to ask with a halfhearted chuckle, looking into the glassy object himself. "It sure doesn't look like it to me. All I can see is... my reflec...tion...?"

His dark green eyes widen as he puts a hand to the mirror.

"Coraline...!?"

Wybie's reflection fades; instead, he sees Coraline's image in the looking glass, sitting on the floor and sobbing into her knees. She doesn't look up, but her friend can practically see the puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks that would mar her bright and cheerful complexion.

"Coraline!" Wybie yells, pounding his fist against the wall in an attempt to get the blue-haired girl to look up. "Hey, _Coraline!_ Can you hear me?! Coraline, look up! _Look up!_"

She picks her head up, opening her eyes to wipe away tears and push the wild hair out of her face—

She falls back in shock when she sees Wybie on the other side, watching her from inside her own house.

"Coraline, where are you?!" Wybie shouts, a new sense of panic taking over him as his friend begins saying things he can't hear. "How did you get there?! How long have you been there...?!"

Coraline holds up a finger to silence him, looking sideways for a moment before crawling closer to breathe on her side of the mirror. Urgently, she scribbles in the fog—backwards to her eyes, but perfectly legible to her friend.

_DONT GO THRU THE_

_BROKN DOOR SHES_

_LUKING FOR YOU TOO_

As the words fade away from the glass, so does Coraline's image, leaving Wybie alone again in the dark.

"Coraline! _CORALINE!_"

He slams his fist into the mirror, then ducks to avoid getting broken glass in his face. As he brushes it out of his thick, frizzy hair, he sees, out of the corner of his eye, Cat looking up at him expectantly.

"This... this is real, isn't it?" Wybie asks, biting his lip. "I'm not imagining any of this, am I? Then that means she's not coming back on her own, is she? Where is she?"

The black feline stands on all four feet once more, turning back down the main hall and walking towards the parlor room. Wybie starts to follow, but as he passes the kitchen, he sees his mask sitting on the counter.

"Can't hurt to have this with me, can it?" he shrugs, making a small detour to grab it and put it on.

He left the night-vision on before he took his mask off last; green light falls over everything he sees. Eerie, he admits, but better than darkness.

He manages to convince himself that he's brave as he follows Cat into the parlor.

There had been a little door on the wall earlier; now, it lies on the floor, torn off of its hinges from the other side. Instead of bricks—old, moldy bricks that he'd expected to be falling apart—there's a tunnel—one that has no end, from where he's standing.

Three small mice sniff at the fallen door, seemingly unaware that they're being watched by two sets of eyes.

"What's gotten into you?" the teen can't help but ask as the glowing green outline of Cat sits crouched halfway in the room, his blue eyes narrowed in the mice's direction. "They're just mice. If you're going to go after them, then go after them already—"

Cat pounces, and manages to catch two of them in his jaws. The third scampers over to Wybie, climbing up his pants leg and under his jacket.

"Hey, get out of my coat! Crazy rodent!" he exclaims, reaching into his jacket and pulling the critter out, holding it by its tail before pushing his mask up to get a better look at the creature. "I don't want you chewing holes in it when I've just patched it up—"

The thin, long tail grows thicker and longer in his hand; the mouse's small, furry body twitches, then morphs into the stout body of a squealing brown rat.

"_Agh!_" Wybie cries, hurling the beast across the room. "But you were a mouse just a second ago—?!"

It tries to make a break for the hole in the wall, but can't escape Cat's teeth and claws. As the black-furred feline sinks his jaws into the rodent's spine, its short brown fur turns to cloth, and sawdust spills out of its wounds.

"Oh man, this just gets weirder and weirder the longer I stay here," Wybie shivers before kneeling down to look into the tunnel. "People in mirrors and animals that turn into dolls, what's next?"

Cat walks into the tunnel before looking back at Wybie.

"Are you going to just sit there and worry about it, then?" he asks pointedly, blue eyes narrowed slightly. "She does need your help, you know."

"You _can_ talk?!"

"Yes, Wybourne, I can talk. But I can't save Coraline from the Other Mother—only you can do that. Follow me."

After telling himself that things can't possibly get any stranger, the brunette crawls into the tunnel, nervously following after his newly-conversant companion.

"So, uh... who is this 'Other Mother'?" he asks, trying to quell his growing fears. "Is it that Beldam person that Coraline sometimes talks about?"

"It is," Cat replies, tail held high in the air.

"...then this was the door for that key?!"

"She was quite angry after you and Coraline threw the key in the well. She must've kept herself alive through sheer force of will, waiting for this day... She forced this door down. She probably picked the lock on her side, but that door only locks from your world. Or rather, it used to only lock from your world; it doesn't do much now. Now it just sits on the floor."

"But why would she...?"

"Be so bent on revenge?"

Cat sits for a moment; Wybie stops, sitting with his legs folded underneath him as he waits.

"The Other Mother needs something to love," the feline begins. "Or rather, something to eat. She thought she'd snared Coraline, but Coraline was more clever than that. So now, she's gone and broken down the doors to take Coraline back. Of course, there's one thing that she didn't count on."

"Oh yeah?" the teen asks. "What's that?"

"That Coraline has a friend who, though foolish enough to doubt the intelligence of a cat, is wise enough to listen and is brave enough to go after her, even when he knows everything's turning upside down around him."

"Yeah, well... I don't feel so brave," Wybie mutters, following after Cat once more. "I just wanna go back home to bed. But if you say that Coraline's gonna get eaten by this crazy Other Mother person, then... huh?"

"Keep going."

Cat backtracks to jump on Wybie's back, resting on his shoulder.

"She and I... don't get along very well," the black cat admits, lightly digging his claws into the teen's coat. "She's sewn them back on, but I highly doubt she's forgotten how I blinded her in the first place."

"But if she's blind, then how—"

"No more questions. You never can know if she's listening at the door, or where her spies are. Just remember to trust in yourself, Wybourne."

_Reassuring,_ he thinks glumly as he reaches the end of the tunnel.

The door is already open; he pushes on it, and it swings farther open.

He sees light.

"Hello?" Wybie calls out, hesitant as he crawls out onto the wooden floor. As he stands, Cat leaps off, quite anxious to get out of the house. "Is anyone here?"

"Ah, Wybie. You're just in time for supper... Won't you come into the kitchen? We've been waiting for you for a while now..."

The voice is distorted, but familiar. It sounds like Mrs. Jones to him.

Wybie walks into the kitchen, eyes widening at what he sees.

"Coraline?!"

* * *

(End chapter six.

This chapter turned out a lot better than I thought it would. And a lot longer, too! Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I can't remember exactly what color Wybie's eyes are. So I figured, "Hey, not a lot of people have green eyes," and there we go! Problem solved.

Please review!)


	4. Other World

(Wow, I looked at the Coraline section today when I got home and there were a whole slew of new fics! That's pretty awesome!

Other Mother, Coraline © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Four: Other World

* * *

A tall creature that resembles a woman stands at the oven. Whatever she's cooking, it smells strange, and she's cooking it with one hand—her left hand. Her right arm ends in a stump, a metallic bone with no wrist or hand to speak of.

Wybie pays no attention to her. Instead, he dashes to the side of the girl at the table.

"Coraline!"

She refuses to look up, even as Wybie places an arm around her shoulders; on the contrary, she pulls her knees close to her chest, fighting back muffled, angry sobs.

"Coraline...?" her friend asks slowly, confused.

"Coraline, is that any way to behave?" the person at the stove calls out, her voice pleasantly cross and eerily similar to Mrs. Jones's. "You're worrying your poor friend Wybie. He came all this way just to pay you a visit! Why don't you say hello to him then, dear?"

Coraline looks up.

Wybie can see his reflection in the surface of a shiny black button.

"What have you done to her?!" he cries, suddenly stumbling away. "You've—!"

The hate and fear in Coraline's right hazel eye can't counter the blankness of the button sewn over her left; tears still flow from both, staining her pale cheeks. Her lips, usually twisted in a crooked grin, are stitched tightly shut with a crimson thread—one that seems to be moving to keep her mouth closed.

Wybie can't tell if the thread was red to begin with, or became that color because of Coraline's blood.

"Oh, that? It's just a little punishment," the woman at the stove smiles, her crackling voice dripping with insufferably fake sympathy. "For running away from her mother all those years ago... But she'll be alright soon enough."

"So then you must be the so-called Other Mother, huh?" Wybie frowns, turning his attention away from his friend and towards the fiend. "The one she called the Beldam."

He doesn't see the thin smile tighten at the corners, or the spindly fingers tighten their grip on the pan on the stove.

"Won't you stay for dinner, Wybie?" the Other Mother asks, turning to face the table and the two children by it. "Coraline was so looking forward to your company... that I even made your favorite dish. Please, _do_ stay for a little while."

The teen boy's glare turns into a look of fear as he catches a glimpse of the Other Mother's face.

Emotion _does_ show itself in _her_ loose, mismatched button-eyes—scorn and pride. The warmth that makes those non-eyes glow with stolen life is the warmth of a self-assurance—self-assurance that says, "There's nothing you can do to change it now." Even her twisted, half-motherly smile seems to say this, though her crimson lips stay tightly closed.

Wybie can't even muster up a hopeless denial in his mind. He now knows he's come wholly unprepared to deal with _this_, and it's a very bitter pill for him to swallow.

"I-I... can't stay," he finally stammers, watching as the inhuman woman places a bowl in front of an empty seat next to Coraline. "Coraline and I have to go back—"

"Oh, I'm sure you do," the Other Mother interrupts, the smile never leaving her face as she takes her seat at the head of the table. "After all, it's very late, and you're both still growing... though whether growing up or just growing big, that seems to be optional."

The brunette bristles, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Yes, he's been fixing it since long after it should have been scrapped. Yes, he added an extra four inches of fabric to the bottom, more to his sleeves, and an extra set of pockets so that his hands can fit comfortably.

No, he doesn't care.

"It's my father's jacket," Wybie snaps, not even letting his fear of the Other Mother abash his small sense of pride. "He gave it to me before... I've had it since I was six."

"And it certainly looks it, too. I can see the patches quite well from over here! But you can always come back tomorrow, come to visit... and if you're still going to insist on wearing that coat, I'll even fix it for you while you two play in the garden. After all, mothers _are_ supposed to be good at fixing things, and I happen to be very skilled with a sewing needle."

Coraline casts her unbuttoned eye at Wybie's dish and shudders. He, too, forces himself to glance into the bowl after seeing his friend's reaction—

The worms glisten under the soft light of the chandelier.

"Yeah. We'll come back tomorrow," the brunette lies, grabbing Coraline's arm and dragging her away with him. "After we find something better to eat. Something that isn't _still moving_."

"'We,' you say? Oh no..."

Wybie lowers his mask over his face; the outline of the small door seems to glow green, though little light enters the parlor room.

"C'mon, Corali—"

He cries out, and Coraline lets out a muffled shriek as the Other Mother bigs her pointed fingers into the girl's shoulder, pulling her and her friend away from escape.

"I said _you_ may come back to visit," the button-eyed fiend grins, revealing pointed teeth as she lifts Coraline into the air. "_She,_ on the other hand, must stay at home with her mother."

"You're not her mother!" Wybie snaps as Coraline's arm is wrenched out of his grasp. "She doesn't belong to you! Give her back!"

"She doesn't belong to you, either. We both want her, but only one of us can have her," the Beldam hisses, her wicked smile growing ever wider as she backs out of the room and walks down to the basement, carrying Coraline with her. "But the difference between us is that _I_ am going to get what I want—what I _deserve_. And _you..._"

"_Coraline!_"

Coraline desperately tries to scream as Wybie chases after her and the Other Mother; she reaches out to him—his gloved hand nearly grabs her own bare one—

Her fingers suddenly fly impossibly out of reach as something knocks him off-balance, away from Coraline and onto the hall floor.

"No! Coraline—!"

"_You_ will have to watch as _my_ daughter grows up to look just like me... my little darling doll of a daughter. She'll certainly have her mother's eyes!"

The Other Mother cackles as someone, or some_thing_ drags Wybie down the hall—out of sight of whatever room that staircase leads to.

But the fear in Coraline's eyes and the muffled shriek behind her sealed lips linger with him.

"Let me _go!_" Wybie snaps, trying to pry himself out of his captor's grasp. "You don't scare me, you monster! You can't stop me from saving her! _Corali—!_"

His cry for Coraline dies on his lips as he is thrown, ungracefully, onto his back. The mask, so long pushed up and out of his eyes, slams down over his face and blinds him to his new surroundings. But not for long, as his captor rips the mask off his face, turning it over in gloved hands.

"Ow! Hey, give that back! That's not—?!"

He had started to get up to take it back...

The shock of seeing his own face looking back at him through black buttons keeps him down on the ground.

"Wh-who are you?!"

The Other Wybie slowly shakes his head, taking the mask with him as he steps back through the wall—out of the cold, dank room, and into the hallway of the Other Mother's house.

"Wha—"

Wybie throws himself against the stone wall, pounding his fists against it as if he thinks it will fall at his command...

"Let me out! _Let me out of here!_ You can't keep me here forever...!"

His throat hurts before his hands do, but not a lot before.

As he sinks to his knees, two crushing realizations dawn on him.

_I couldn't save Coraline._

And he has all the time in the world to think on this in the dark, cold and alone.

* * *

(End chapter four.

This has to be my favorite chapter so far, even if it's so far been the most difficult to write.

Please review!)


	5. Delusions

(I am slowly building up a list of CDs I'm not allowing myself to listen to while writing this fic—they're "too happy." Three Days' Grace made the list.

Um?

Again, thank you so much for your continued support!

Cat, Other Mother, Coraline © Neil Gaiman

Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Five: Delusions

* * *

He's resorted to counting cobwebs in the corners of the room as an attempt to distract himself. No such luck, unfortunately; he loses count after his stomach growls once more, and is tired of constantly restarting again.

Wybie doesn't know how long he's been trapped here. An hour? Four? More? If he had anything worth betting, he'd put it on more; sleep weighs down on his senses, and hunger gnaws at his insides.

Even worms sound appetizing at this point. But he'll never admit that to anyone, much less himself—or the Beldam.

"Ah, there you are."

The teen glances over towards the magic wall as a vaguely familiar voice speaks suddenly.

"I was wondering where she'd put you," Cat announces, little more than a moving shadow in this dark prison.

"Well, here I am," Wybie mutters quietly, drawing his knees to his chest as the feline rubs up against his legs. "I thought you and her didn't get along. You were pretty anxious to get outside, weren't you?"

"You could say I know my way around. Besides, it's easier to avoid her when you're smaller."

"You know, I could've used your help. She was... frightening. You didn't say anything about how she was so..."

"She _is_ the Beldam, Wybourne. She _did_ take Coraline from her home and sew her mouth shut. Did you expect her to be... understanding? Reasonable, dare I use the word to speak of her?"

"...no, not really. But still, I..."

He shivers, resting his chin on his knees.

"...Coraline."

His green eyes close as he tightly clutches his arms, fighting down the torrent of emotions that threaten to bubble up from within.

"I've failed her, haven't I?" he asks, expecting no answer. "I couldn't save her from the Other Mother. I thought I could actually be brave enough, or strong enough, to bring her back... ugh. Stupid! I'm so stupid sometimes... And now she has buttons over her eyes, doesn't she? Now it's too late..."

Cat casts a cool glance at Wybie before hopping onto the dust-covered mattress, looking down with cerulean eyes.

"Are you giving up, then?"

Wybie looks up, staring confusedly at the animal's faint outline.

"Huh?"

"_She'll_ pull you out of here soon enough. Mostly to show off her handiwork," the feline continues, tail twitching. "If you're going to give up, then you can always just go back through the door. She has Coraline now; she'll most likely not bother your world again in your lifetime. You can go back, live with your grandmother, go to school, and never tell anyone how the Other Mother won. Coraline will forget you soon enough—one less thing on your conscience. She won't remember that you were ever here with her."

His sharp words and cold tone make Wybie cringe; the brunette turns his gaze away, unable to keep looking at Cat.

"No, that's not what—that's not what I want to happen," he shakes his head, his soft voice and tremulous words barely audible even in this small room. "I don't want to abandon her, but—"

"Then your decision is simple, is it not? Stay. Help find a way for Coraline to come back."

"But how?!"

"I don't know. _That,_ Wybourne, is for you to figure out," Cat replies, leaping back down onto solid ground and laying beside the teen boy. "But Coraline found a way back after saving the other children trapped here, _and_ finding her parents. _You_ only have to save Coraline. I'd almost say you have your work cut out for you this time... if, of course, you're going to help her."

"...I'm going to need your help, though," Wybie admits, reaching over and scratching behind the black cat's ears. "You know stuff about here. I..."

"Don't, of course. You've never been here before. But I'm sure—"

Cat suddenly grows silent, turning his gaze toward the far wall, his fur standing on end.

"Huh...?"

"...She's listening," the feline hisses, crouching close to the ground. "She wants to know what we know of her. I can't say anymore. Just remember, Wybourne. Think back, and trust in yourself..."

"Again with that, huh? I'll give it a shot, but—"

The stone wall suddenly glows an eerie shade of green; Wybie pales slightly as the Other Mother's face appears from the other side.

"Ah, there you are," she smiles, her thin red lips parted to reveal pointed teeth. "Coraline has been asking for you. Come join us for breakfast, won't you?"

She pulls away from the stone wall; her face disappears, yet the pale green glow remains.

Wybie slowly rises to his feet, biting his lip.

"Be brave," he whispers to himself, holding up a hand as he walks forward. "I have to be brave for Coraline..."

He lowers his hand as he steps through to the other side, surrounded once again by soft lights and warmth. The smell of cooked food fills the house, making his stomach grumble louder than before.

Something furry rubs against his leg. Wybie looks down.

"It's up to you now," Cat growls before darting off, finding the open front door and slipping through the crack.

_That doesn't help much,_ the brunette can't help but think as he steps into the kitchen.

"I'm here," he announces quietly, lingering in the doorway.

The Other Mother doesn't look up from the stove; she's too busy turning the bacon over in the pan. Grease bubbles up and splatters over the front of her apron.

"Coraline! Would you come down and set the table? We're going to be eating soon!"

The creaking of old stairs echoes behind Wybie, followed by light footsteps.

A hand quickly taps his shoulder.

_Don't be afraid, don't look afraid... It will still be her..._

He takes a deep breath before turning around—

Wybie sees his nervous expression reflected in Coraline's black button eyes.

* * *

(End chapter five.

This is the shortest chapter so far. Amazing, isn't it?

Please review!)


	6. Affection

(I'm officially not allowed to talk about Coraline at my lunch table anymore. That's how much I loved, and still love, the movie. Which is why I'm really excited to be seeing it again with a friend soon!

Other Mother, Coraline © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Six: Affection

* * *

He can't bring himself to eat.

His stomach had been growling just minutes before. Now, it stays silent; any attempt to do so much as work up an appetite again makes him nauseous.

Maybe it's fear that he didn't have before. Maybe he wasn't really hungry to begin with.

Maybe it's the fact that his eyes are the only eyes at the table that blink. That move.

That have color.

"Aren't you hungry? You didn't have any dinner last night, after all. It isn't very good to skip meals, especially if you're still growing."

The words fall upon deaf ears. Wybie's eyes drift back and forth between his food and Coraline's face.

Coraline sits across from him, patiently waiting, her black button eyes never closing, never moving. No carefully-cooked meal sits in front of her; the effort is wasted on one whose mouth is stitched into a smile.

Nobody cooks for dolls.

"I'm not that hungry," Wybie mutters, quietly drumming his fingers on the table.

"Well, you should still try to eat something," the Other Mother suggests, standing behind Coraline, stroking the girl's short blue hair with gaunt fingers. "You might start to wither away, and become thin and delicate, like my daughter. How odd would it be, to see someone like you weak and helpless, like a toy—don't you agree, Coraline?"

Coraline looks away, staring down into her lap.

"Oh, I know it's not your fault... _my_ daughter," the Other Mother croons, an almost-genuine loving smile on her lips. "No, you can't help it. It's not your fault that you can be so difficult to care for... but it doesn't matter. I love you all the same, my precious little doll..."

His hand stills, clenching into a fist.

Her grotesque displays of _affection,_ if it can truly be called that, sicken Wybie. How she says it's not Coraline's fault that the girl is weak, how the girl is delicate, how the girl is so much like a doll. He understands how true the Beldam's words really are.

What makes it worse to bear is how Coraline seems to eat it up, looking up at the Beldam with a red-threaded smile. How _she_ seems to believe every word, and no longer flinches at the inhuman touch of the self-proclaimed parent.

It's Coraline he sees, but it isn't the Coraline he knows. This isn't _his_ Coraline.

This is just the Beldam's doll.

"I'm... going to go outside," Wybie announces quietly, pushing his chair back from the table. "You wanna come with, Coraline?"

The girl claps her hands together excitedly, abruptly leaping to her feet before dashing upstairs to retrieve something.

"How nice it is that she has friends like you to make her happy," the Other Mother sighs, her empty gaze belatedly following Coraline's path. "Every child needs dear friends, don't you agree?"

"Who are you trying to kid?" the youth growls, rising from his seat, not at all swayed by her soft tone. "You can't fool me. You don't really love her."

"How cold. What mother doesn't love her child?"

"You're not her mother. You stole her. You're just desperate for someone to love, aren't you?"

"My, are you still going on about that?" the Other Mother smirks, folding her arms in front of her chest. "No, I'm not at all desperate. _My daughter_ loves me; not even you can change that, you foolish child. Neither you nor the little brat can take that away..."

He can't see the scowl set on her face. Not that he would notice anyways; the Beldam's words turn the gears in his mind.

'_The little brat'? Does she mean..._

"...he's one of your puppets, isn't he?" Wybie asks, anger rising as he thinks of the button-eyed youth that so closely resembles him. "I mean, you made him, didn't you? He has the—"

"_I_ did not create that vermin," she interrupts, her tone suddenly cold and bitter. "I have created only perfect things to keep my lovely daughter happy, and he has frightened her and made her cry. That _thing_ will not be her friend. He upsets her, and my dear Coraline will not be upset here."

Coraline comes back downstairs just in time to hear the end of her Other Mother's speech, and tilts her head to the side, confused.

"Do not worry about it, dear," the Other Mother soothes, retreating back into the kitchen. "Why don't you play with your friend in the garden? The roses are blooming now. You could show him how pretty they are this time of year, wouldn't that be nice?"

The blue-haired girl nods, beckoning for Wybie to follow her outside.

_You might have forgotten them, but I haven't,_ the brunette tells himself as he follows, stuffing his hands inside his pockets as they step out the front door. _I'll remember for you, then, Coraline. I'll find a way to bring you back to your parents._

Deep down inside, he knows he's gotten much more than he bargained for.

But he's too far in to quit now.

* * *

(End chapter six.

The Beldam was fun to write. I bet you're happy I said that, aren't you, Anna?

Please review!)


	7. Guilt

(Today was crazy. Thank goodness for weekends, right?

There's a part in here that references gothicorca1895's fic, "The Forgotten." Once again, thank you for letting me reference your work!

Coraline, Other Mother, Other Father © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Seven: Guilt

* * *

He thought he'd have time to think about what to do once he got outside. He'd only asked Coraline to join him as an attempt to pull her away from the Other Mother. In his eyes, any time spent away from that monster of a false parent is time well spent.

Coraline obviously didn't realize that Wybie had a plan for planning; she literally drags him around with her, giving him a tour of the outside of the other Pink Palace.

He hasn't the energy or the inclination to stop her.

Besides, she looks so happy.

_Coraline... what's she done to you?_ the brunette wonders, only vaguely aware that they're wandering through the garden. _Did she take out some of your memories along with your eyes? Is that why you seem to remember me, but not how much you hated her? You didn't even stop smiling when she talked down to you like a kid—_

Budding snapdragons nip at his ankles.

"Agh! What the—"

Coraline's body trembles slightly, and she brings a hand over her mouth as Wybie hurriedly scrambles away from the moving flowers.

"Ugh... glad to see _you're_ getting a kick out of this," he mutters, stopping beside the bridge and looking back at his his companion. "I never realized you had a soft spot for man-eating plants."

Her smile never flickers as she goes back to Wybie's side, taking his wrist and leading him down the winding path.

More flowers surround them, though they leave the teens alone. As they pass bleeding hearts and blooming roses, Wybie lets his mind wander yet again.

_"I did not create that vermin. I have created only perfect things to keep my lovely daughter happy..."_

He has no doubt that the Other Mother was talking about the button-eyed puppet that looks so much like him. Who else is there in this world to talk about?

But he doesn't understand. Why _is_ there still a copy of him in the first place? Especially if the Beldam despises him as much as she claims. To call her own creation vermin—there's no denying the twisted tie that connects them. His button-eyes tell all about his origins.

Coraline said he'd been destroyed, though. Why recreate something to hate?

_To make sure nobody got in the way while she put buttons in Coraline's eyes, that's why,_ the brunette suddenly realizes. frowning slightly. _I'm sure __**he**__ wouldn't disappoint her._

And he knows that people can tolerate just about anyone that will help them...

Coraline suddenly freezes.

"Huh? What is it—?"

She dashes off, leaving her green-eyed friend behind as she disappears behind a short wall of tulips.

"H-Hey! Coraline, wait!"

Shaking his head, Wybie follows after her, careful not to trip over misplaced stones in the path under his feet.

"Hey, Coraline, where'd you go?" he calls out, voice dampened only by his exhaustion. "This isn't such a good time to be playing hide and—"

The words die on his lips when he finds her.

Coraline sits on the rocky path, her back turned to Wybie. She bows her head slightly, alternating between casting her blank gaze off to the side and down to her lap as she idly strokes her own hair.

The Other Wybie reaches forward to grasp her hand, but freezes when he sees his real counterpart glaring down at him.

"_You,_" Wybie seethes, clenching his fists as he stares into those blank, black eyes. "I remember you. She talked about you a lot back at home..."

_"C'mon, Jonesy. It was just a joke..."_

_"Yeah, well... I didn't think it was very funny. I __**told**__ you how... how they all had buttons over their eyes. And then what happened to... to him..."_

_"Hm? Coraline, are you...?"_

_"Y'know, if he hadn't helped me come back home that one time, I'd probably be stuck there? But he'd still be alive. If you could call it that. Not even my Other Father risked himself for me like he did..."_

"You couldn't bring yourself to save her this time, could you?" the teen snaps, not caring as Coraline suddenly jumps to her feet when she realizes he's still there. "Decided you like your own skin more than doing what was right twice, huh? You little bastard!"

The Other Wybie scrambles away, but not fast enough; Wybie lifts him up by his coat collar, shaking him violently.

"She thought you'd help her! She thought you'd protect her from that monster pretending to be her mother!" the brunette roars, green eyes burning with fury. "But you let her get turned into one of her dolls! You stopped me when I had a chance to save her! _Why?!_"

He draws one hand away, clenching it into a fist, ready to slam it into his copy's face—

Two hands hold his arm back.

He looks over his shoulder and sees Coraline clinging to his arm, looking up at him with an unwavering smile and a faint glint in her eyes.

It forces him to look back.

The Other Wybie holds his arms over his head—a desperate attempt to shield himself from the real Wybie's rage. When he doesn't feel pain, he glances out from behind his makeshift guard...

Fear lives in his black button eyes.

"... fine, then," Wybie growls, roughly dropping his copy on the ground. "You're suffering already. Coraline thinks it's enough. I'll trust her on this."

He storms off, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

He knows if he looks over his shoulder, he'll see Coraline fretting over the Other Wybie, expressing through actions what her unchanging face cannot.

Inside, his heart grows heavy with guilt.

* * *

(End chapter seven.

I... really had a hard time with the beginning. But then it started coming together. I personally like how it ended.

Please review!)


	8. Trust

(So I've successfully convinced myself that I've lost touch with reality. Not that I mind; reality is covered in sharp spikes, and my imagination has no man-eating flowers—just too much caffeine.

True story—every time I put the copyright symbol, I almost type "Nintendo" instead of "Neil Gaiman". Maybe I ought to follow my own advice and get out more.

Coraline, Ghost Children, Cat © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Eight: Trust

* * *

He sits on the bridge, feet dangling over the side as he thinks.

Not all that far off, Coraline and the Other Wybie are playing cards—Go Fish, from the looks of it. They take turns holding up a certain number of fingers, occasionally exchanging cards, but more often than not drawing from the deck.

Every so often, the Other Wybie looks up to see if his real self has decided to come for him again.

Wybie will scowl at him, but Coraline's placating action had a stronger effect than anticipated. The puppet is safe, for now.

"I don't get it," Wybie mutters to himself, rubbing the drowsiness out of his eyes. "If you really were as great as she said you were, why'd you betray her, huh? Why'd you let the Other Mother take her eyes?"

A frustrated sigh escapes his lips.

"You know, Wybourne, most people do something against their will because they're forced into doing it."

He looks over, alarmed, but relaxes when he sees that it's only Cat approaching him.

"So you're saying the Other Mother's gone and forced him to help her?" the teen asks, averting his gaze and choosing to take in the sight of the black daytime sky. "But didn't she destroy him for helping Coraline escape? That's what Coraline said, anyways. If he did, why wouldn't she make someone new?"

"Because recreating your other self was much more effective," Cat answers, crouching down and staring into the water beneath the bridge. "It's _because_ Coraline trusted him that the Other Mother used him. Coraline would think he'd come to her rescue again, and then..."

Wybie clenches a fist briefly.

"I want to hate him," he growls. "For betraying her trust. For preventing me from helping her. So why can't I hate him?"

"Perhaps it's because there's a little bit of you in him," the feline responds, tail flicking about. "After all, he _is_ you, in the most obscure sense of the word. And as for hating him, don't worry about it too much. I'm sure the Beldam hates him enough for both of you, and regrets every minute of his existence."

"...hm."

The brunette stares at the moon, which casts its soft white light down onto the ground.

"I keep thinking that maybe, if I fall asleep, I'll wake up at home and this will all have been a bad dream," he admits, stretching his arms over his head before crossing them in front of his chest. "But this is all real, isn't it? The buttons, this garden, the Other Mother... they're not figments of my imagination, are they?"

"Well, Wybourne, if you fell asleep here, you might wake up back home—though it wouldn't be because this is all a dream," Cat says, sitting up and glancing over at the youth beside him. "She might've said that you're a good friend for Coraline, but she can't control you. She can't tell you what to do, since you're not one of her dolls. She'll probably try to kick you out if you let your guard down."

"Of course she would. Maybe that's why I'm so on edge. I thought I'd be falling asleep on my feet, but... I don't know. I'm tired, but I can't get tired enough to doze off."

"Which is good, because you need to still figure out how to get Coraline out of here."

"Yeah..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Wybie sees Coraline suddenly stand up.

"What's she doing—?"

She looks around briefly before spotting her friend on the bridge. Happily, she darts over to him, two cards clutched tightly in her hand.

The Other Wybie seems to be in no hurry to follow the blue-haired girl; instead, he gathers up the remainder of the deck of cards, stuffing them in one of his coat pockets before quietly shuffling away, button eyes cast down to the ground.

"Did you beat him?" Wybie asks Coraline as she sits down next to him, scooting close to him and unceremoniously evicting Cat from his spot. The black-furred animal takes a new perch on the brunette's shoulder as he adds, "Fairly or by cheating?"

Coraline lightly punches Wybie in the arm before showing him the cards in her hand.

"So you won with a pair of twos, huh? Just like last time, only I don't think last time even counts. After all, I asked you for that two and you didn't give it to me—"

This time, she punches him a little harder and shoves the twos into her friend's hand.

"Ow! Man, nobody can accuse you of hitting like a girl... Why are you giving these to me? I don't need them..."

Coraline shrugs, refusing to take them as Wybie tries to hand them back to her.

"Oh, fine. Be that way," the green-eyed teen sighs, putting the cards in his pocket, much to Coraline's satisfaction. "If it makes you happy, I'll hold onto them."

The button-eyed girl quietly claps her hands together, happily swinging her legs.

"...hey, Coraline? I have a couple of questions... about that other version of me."

She fixes her gaze on her friend, waiting, listening.

"You told me once... that the Other Mother created him to be your friend here," Wybie begins, unsure how to put his thoughts to words. "But then you said she destroyed him. Did she... recreate him to be your friend again?"

She doesn't even pause; Coraline shakes her head, blue hair flying about her face.

"I thought as much," the brunette mutters, looking away. "So he's just her crony, is he? The little—"

A hand rests on his shoulder, reclaiming his attention.

Coraline is still shaking her head.

"Huh...?"

Wybie watches confusedly as his friend draws her arms over her chest, almost as if she's hugging herself. All the while, she looks up at him, the red smile never changing.

"What—you trust him?" Wybie asks.

His question earns him a brief nod.

"But Coraline, he stopped me from helping you! We could be having a different conversation, back at home, if it weren't for—"

She looks away, huddling over, letting her blue hair fall over her face.

"No... Coraline, don't be like that," Wybie attempts to placate, placing a hand on the girl's back. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? If you trust him, then... then I'll trust him too, alright? I'm sure you have good reasons for trusting him."

Slowly, Coraline turns her head, casting a hesitant sideways glance.

"I promise."

Under these terms, she accepts his apology; her arms fall back to her sides, and she sits upright, her legs swinging back and forth as she looks off into space.

_So you still trust him? Even after what he did,_ the brunette muses, green eyes narrowing as he frowns. _And especially after what the Beldam said. How...? Ugh, this world is too confusing. I can't handle these mind games—_

"Coraline! Coraline, it's getting cold out. I want you to come inside now, before you get sick!"

Coraline rises to her feet and runs off at the Other Mother's call, but not before casting a glance back at her friend.

_Games..._

"Hey, Cat," Wybie asks quietly, standing up and slowly following after the blue-haired girl. "Coraline said she played a game with the Beldam where she got something back that belonged to three kids."

"Yes, their eyes," the feline affirms, leaping to the ground and hiding in the teen's shadow. "Why?"

He looks up, and imagines that he sees his motorbike near the back of the Pink Palace. When he rubs his eyes, however, it's gone.

"...say I went and found her eyes, then, and brought her back. What do you think would happen? Do you think...?"

"Are you coming inside too, Wybie? Hurry up, then, you're letting the cold in!" the Other Mother calls, her smile unable to mask the irritated tone of her voice.

"Possibly. They haven't been gone that long; her soul might still be in her body. Are you suggesting that—?"

"Man, if this works, she owes me _big._"

Cat darts away as he gets close to the house; Wybie bites his lip, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets as he steps on the porch.

"Come in, then," the Other Mother repeats, holding the door open for the youth. "It's getting a bit too cold to be playing outside, don't you agree? What a shame it would be if you and Coraline got sick..."

"Yeah... it wouldn't be fun," Wybie responds, forcing himself to look into her button-eyes to show that he's not afraid.

As the door closes behind him, he can only hope he hasn't walked into a trap.

* * *

(End chapter eight.

This chapter just sort of took off after Wybie and Cat had a little chit-chat. (I swear I did not say that for the rhyme. I'm sorry if I made anybody horribly depressed.)

Please review!)


	9. Conditions

(I have found the soundtrack online. I can't download it onto my mp3 player, but I've found it. All was well in my highly unstable plane of existence. And then crashed. Argh!

In other news, I've been called obsessive by my own father. I can't tell if that's a new high or low.

Coraline, Other Mother, Cat © Neil Gaiman

Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Nine: Conditions

* * *

Wybie finds Coraline in the room that, in the real world, is her father's study.

For a second, he wonders why there is no Other Father to replace Mr. Jones; it quickly becomes the least of his worries. Other questions pop into his mind, like—

"What's with all the dolls?!" he exclaims, eyes widening as he sees the whole floor literally covered with dolls of all shapes and sizes—dolls piled in the corners, falling off the shelves, sitting on the windowsills.

He gets the unnerving feeling that they're all staring at him with their small button-eyes.

"I would have thought that _you,_ of all people, would have no use for dolls. Aren't you more into sciencey things? Bugs and slugs and things of that nature?"

Wybie forces himself not to look back as he senses the Other Mother behind him, appearing as if from thin air.

"I have, and I guess you could say that I am," he instead mutters, keeping his gaze fixed on Coraline. "I thought she'd outgrown them too. I don't think I've ever once seen her play with a doll for as long as I've known her—and I've known her for a while."

"No girl ever really outgrows her dolls," the Other Mother smiles, reaching to grasp the doorknob with her left hand. "Are you going to join her, then, and keep her company?"

The teen's stomach ties itself into knots as the countless toys keep their unblinking eyes fixed on him.

It would be so much easier to tolerate if they all had different colored buttons, instead of the same dead shade of black.

_Stay focused, Wybie. Stay focused..._

"No, I won't," he shakes his head, noticing how his blue-haired friend hasn't looked up once. "She can play with dolls by herself."

"Ah, so you're going, then?" the Beldam asks, closing the door and quickly ushering Wybie down the hall, towards the parlor room. "She'll be quite upset when she hears you've gone home. You'll come back to visit soon, won't you? It would make Coraline very—"

"Don't push me!" the brunette snaps, stumbling past the doorway before quickly turning to face the button-eyed fiend. "And don't put ideas in my head that I don't have. Just because I'm done playing with Coraline doesn't mean I'm done playing here."

"Oh?"

He swallows nervously before standing tall, taking his hands out of his pockets as he looks the Other Mother in the eye.

"In fact, I was about to suggest that _we_ play a game. You and me."

"A game?"

The Other Mother laughs, looking down at the youth with a smirk plastered on her sallow face.

"Why not? I could use the entertainment myself," she tells Wybie, leaning against the wall. "It's always fun to play games with new people. What did you have in mind, then?"

"You've hidden something, somewhere," Wybie begins, confident enough to let a small frown creep onto his face. "Coraline's eyes."

"You want to find them."

"You're familiar with this game, aren't you?"

A terse smile replaces the smug grin on her face.

"I've played it a few times."

"If I win," the green-eyed teen starts, "Coraline comes back home with me. No more fuss, no more kidnappings. She lives with her _real_ parents, and you leave us alone forever. No more coming through the door, or tempting other children to come here."

"My, my, such large demands," the Other Mother chuckles, idly stroking her black hair with her needle-like fingers. "You _are_ intent on taking my daughter away, aren't you? ...And what if you lose, hm? What do you sacrifice?"

"If I lose, then... Coraline stays here with you. Forever. And I'll call you her mother, and I won't talk about her real parents around her ever again. I'll never make her upset, and if she remembers anything about her real life, I'll tell her not to worry over fake memories."

"Hmm. Tempting, I'll admit, but there's not enough in it for me. After all, my daughter will lose the memories of her false past soon enough."

He'd hoped that he wouldn't have to pull this card.

_Only for you, Coraline._

"Well, how about this? If you'll give me a clue what to look for... then, if I lose, I'll let you put buttons over my eyes as well."

The Beldam stands up straight at this.

"And if you did that..." Wybie continues, knowing that he has her interest now. "If you did that, then you could get rid of the copy you made of me. You'd have my soul—more power for you, then. I know that's what you use them for—_and_ someone who would always keep Coraline... _your_ daughter... company. And who'd never disobey the wishes of his friend's _mother._"

He sees the grin widening on the Other Mother's face.

"Well...?" the brunette asks, turning his head to look at his adversary out of the corner of his eye.

"Coraline's eyes are where mine used to be," the Beldam says, pointed teeth showing in her smile as she steps into shadows of the parlor room. "I'll be waiting here for you for when you think you've found them. Don't take too long now, alright? It's getting quite cold, and it's always more difficult to sew the buttons on when you're frozen."

"I'll keep that in mind," the teen responds, taking a deep, silent breath before walking down the hall.

_This is it,_ he thinks to himself, walking to the foyer area before pausing. _I'm not going to fail you, Coraline. But where should I start looking...?_

Quietly, his green eyes cast their gaze on the front door.

_She said it was getting cold out. ...Even if it's a false clue, it can't hurt to look, can it?_

With this thought in mind, Wybie lays his hand on the door, pulling it open with some small amount of effort before stepping outside.

* * *

(End chapter nine.

I almost put "End chapter four." Flashbacks?

Please review!)


	10. Searching

(I have a little tic. Only it's not so little; I look for patterns between the number of reviews versus the number of chapters in a story. It can be quite debilitating sometimes, because I just go through all the stories and look for patterns.

Maybe I need to get out more?

Cat, Coraline, Other Mother © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Ten: Searching

* * *

It isn't _that_ cold—yet, at least, he decides, before stepping off the porch. The temperature has dropped some, yes, but he's endured far chillier days.

All the same, Wybie rubs his gloved hands together to make sure the feeling, still in his fingers, stays in his fingers.

"If I were a crazy witch," he mutters to himself, "and I were hell-bent on hiding my stolen daughter's eyes, where would I hide them? Oh, _and_ they're where _my_ eyes used to be... no, her eyes. Ugh, I can't talk like this. Those crazy people in movies can keep their double-talk..."

Though his mind is somewhat foggy with exhaustion, the chill keeps his senses alert; his green eyes carefully examine his surroundings, searching for anything seemingly out of place.

Of course, _everything_ seems out of place to him; the moving flowers, the black noontime sky—none of this strikes him as "normal" in any sense of the word.

"Maybe I should've asked _where_ to look, instead..."

"No, 'what' was the better question. It narrows the possibilities considerably, and you need all the help you can get when playing games with _her._"

Wybie barely even flinches as Cat leaps onto his right shoulder, claws digging into the thick fabric of his coat.

"Yeah, but where do I look?" the teen sighs, turning around to face the house. "For all I know, Coraline's eyes could be all the way in China!"

"You really think the Beldam would make her world that much bigger than it needs to be?" the feline scoffs, bright blue eyes darting around. "No, she wouldn't do that. She'll give you a real chance, because it's far more entertaining to watch you go mad when you're staring at the thing you're looking for and don't realize it."

"Wonderful. So I should look for something totally obvious?"

For a few moments, Wybie stares at the other Pink Palace, then glances over his shoulder to look at the garden.

"The Other Mother said it was getting cold out, so I'm pretty sure it's not in that part of the house," he thinks aloud, rubbing the gathering drowsiness from his eyes. "But I don't think it's outside. But where...?"

"How much easier this would be if you had a seeing stone," Cat growls, tail thrashing quietly. "She's gone and hidden it well; there's not so much as a trail to follow. But if you had a stone, not even she could hide Coraline's eyes in plain sight."

"What's a seeing stone?"

"An item from ancient lore that reveals hidden objects. I'm not sure how they came into possession of one, but the women who live in the bottom flat lent Coraline a seeing stone before she came back to find her parents. Of course, the Beldam destroyed it..."

"Of course. Can't make things easy, can she—"

Wybie's words die on his lips as the faint, whining sound of a revving motor sounds in the distance.

"What on earth...?"

A single bright beam of light suddenly appears from behind the old tennis courts.

The revving grows louder.

And louder—

"That's my motorbike! That's the sound it makes right before it—"

"_Move!_"

Cat leaps off Wybie's shoulder, dashing off to the right; Wybie himself dives to the left—

There's a loud bang, followed by the screeching sound of metal crashing against stone—

The Other Wybie flies over the low garden wall, landing in a heap amongst brightly colored tulips.

"For the love of—"

Quite awake enough to realize he's nearly been run over, Wybie slowly staggers to his feet, the dumbfounded expression on his face lingering even as he hurries down the garden path.

The Other Wybie slowly sits up in the tulip patch, clutching his head in a futile attempt to unscramble his mind. The welding mask sits askew on top of his head, flattening his unruly hair; one of his black button eyes hangs loosely from its place on his rough, fabric-like face.

This doesn't stop his real counterpart from grabbing him by the collar, glaring at the puppet with bright green eyes that blaze with fury.

"What the _hell_ is your problem?!" Wybie yells, anger blinding him to the frost that creeps over the flowers. "If you care about Coraline as much as she said you did, then why did you just try to run me over?! And with _my_ bike! I oughta—"

"It's not worth the effort, Wybourne," Cat's harrowed voice calls from close to the ground. Leaping up onto the low stone wall, the animal adds, "Even if he did it on purpose—which I doubt—he wouldn't be able to answer you."

The teen's gaze shifts between the feline on the ledge and the fearful, living puppet in his grasp; with a frustrated growl, he drops his copy back amongst the tulips.

"Twice. Twice, I should have smashed your face in. But it looks like everyone's erring on your side," Wybie scowls, watching his counterpart hesitantly remove the modified welding mask. "And for what? What have _you_ done, besides help the Beldam? Huh?"

The Other Wybie cringes at _her_ name; even so, he looks up at the human teen, holding out the mask, sorrow lingering in his unblinking eyes.

"What, got bored with it?" Wybie mutters under his breath, snatching it back before placing it back on his head and dropping it over his face. "Thanks for at least returning _something_ that... doesn't...?!"

The vibrant colors of the garden turn grey and lifeless as he looks through the turret lens; he looks around, bewildered, alternating between pushing his mask up and bringing it back over his eyes.

"What is this?!" Wybie demands, hopelessly confused. "Why's everything all—"

A gloved hand clasps over his mouth.

The Other Wybie raises a finger to his lips, fear in his frowning expression before he pushes the mask back over his real counterpart's face.

He then grasps Wybie's hand and holds it up in the teen's line of sight...

Ashen grey fingers barely cover the bright blue glow radiating from his own hand and arm.

"What the—!? Why is my arm glowing...!?"

"What?! Say that again."

Wybie notices Cat staring at him, eyes wide.

His own eyes widen even more as Cat's normally black hue instead is dark, earthen brown.

"And you—you're brown. Why are you glowing brown all of a sudden?!" he exclaims, pushing his mask back up to reveal his panicked expression. "But now everything's back to normal. I don't—"

"He turned your mask into..."

The black-furred feline turns his bright blue gaze to the puppet.

"You knew we would need a seeing stone, didn't you?"

The Other Wybie nods slowly, releasing his grasp on his counterpart's hand.

Guilt, mixed with regret, suddenly weighs upon Wybie's heart.

"Why would you do this...?" he asks softly, wide green eyes staring at the living doll.

Silence.

"...I-I can't... help her... anymore. You... you can help... Coraline. So... I help you."

His voice is softer, much softer, than Wybie would have expected. The Other Wybie's voice is the voice of fear, of undue suffering, of rejection.

But it's a voice he didn't have before.

"When did you learn to speak?" Cat demands, himself caught momentarily off-guard.

The copy shakes his head, instead pointing to the top floor of the garish house.

"The old man's apartment?"

"Up there," the Other Wybie tells, black button eyes fixed on his real counterpart's face as Wybie glances over at the Pink Palace. "Look there... past the cannons. Don't let them fire... Sh-_She_ knows what we fear. Don't let the cannons fire..."

The familiar shiver of fear begins to crawl up Wybie's back.

"Got it," he nods slowly, starting to walk off. "Come on, Cat—"

"Wait...! Wait. One more thing."

Wybie pauses, looking back at the puppet amongst the flowers...

He just now notices the ice creeping over the stone wall.

"She's... she's not playing fair," the Other Wybie says, seemingly oblivious to the frost forming over his hands. "Remember... what you're looking for. Coraline's eyes..."

"...right. I'll keep that in mind."

"...good luck."

With a faint shiver from the cold, Wybie walks towards the Pink Palace, Cat at his side.

_Why?_ he can't help but wonder. _Why do this? You'll die for helping me, even if—...but I won't fail. So what—_

"Can you call his existence living, though?"

The teen's gotten used to Cat's random appearances, but not to his keen perception. It's almost as if the animal is reading his mind.

"No... no, I guess not," he admits. "But still..."

He shoots a quick glance back over his shoulder to see the Other Wybie standing on the stone garden pathway, brushing frost off his clothes.

_I don't know why you're doing this. But I thank you all the same._

_

* * *

_

(End chapter ten.

Wow, this took longer than I thought... What do you think, though? Was it worth it?

Please review!)


	11. Fear

(Painfully true story! I'm on Scholastic Bowl. [Think "Team Jeopardy".] Oftentimes, _American Gods_ comes up as a question that nobody ever seems to know.

Guess who was at the bookstore and learned that _American Gods_ is written by Neil Gaiman? I swear, I'm just going to clear Borders one day.

Cat, Other Mother, Coraline © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Eleven: Fear

* * *

How entirely unnatural this chill is, he realizes as he climbs the staircase up to the top apartment. There is nearly no wind; for that, he gives thanks—already, his teeth chatter incessantly, and he rubs his hands over his arms in an effort to fight off the cold.

Still, Wybie presses on.

"Sh-she's d-doing this, is-sn't she?" he wonders, cold forcing him to stammer his words as he reaches the top of the steps. "C-can't she f-find b-better ways t-to cheat than t-to f-freeze me aliv-ve?"

"She's jealous of the bond between you and Coraline," Cat replies, walking in circles in front of the door to keep his blood flowing. "You could say she's trying to literally make you become cold-hearted, like her."

"P-Pleasant."

The brunette lightly curls his stiff, gloved fingers around the doorknob just before quiet thoughts creep into his tired mind.

_Will her eyes really be in there? What will they look like? Will there be a copy of the crazy man with his mouse circus in there—_

His green eyes widen suddenly.

_Mice?_

"H-Hey, C-Cat?" he asks, a tremor of nervousness in his voice. "Th-the Other M-Mother... d-did she m-make those... m-mice-rat-th-things we s-saw in C-Coraline's h-house?"

"Yes...why do you—"

Cat suddenly understands.

"You never have liked rats," the feline recalls.

"Unh-uh," Wybie agrees, shaking his head as he tentatively bites his lip. "B-but if it h-helps C-Coraline, then..."

A low sigh escapes his lips.

"L-Let's j-just get th-this ov-ver w-with," he shudders, turning the doorknob and pushing the door open before walking in.

_Heat_ smothers the teen and his animal friend—not pleasant, comforting warmth, but the suffocating swelter of heat. Not quite like an attic in summer...

It strikes Wybie more as the feel of too many bodies crammed into one room.

At least his teeth have stopped chattering.

"Where are these cannons I'm not supposed to set off?" he asks, quietly lowering his mask over his face, leaving the door open just a crack.

"In front of you," Cat informs, blue eyes already well-adjusted to the darkness. "What do you see, Wybourne?"

"...ah! There's something over—"

His hand, raising to point out the "something", suddenly freezes.

He can't shake the feeling that, though nothing else seems to move, the whole room is watching him.

"Over there," Wybie quietly finishes, forcing his hand to drop. "How do I get there without setting off the cannons?"

"...here. Follow me," Cat replies, slowly walking to the right wall and creeping forward alongside it. "As long as we don't go between them, they shouldn't go off. Just try not to make too much noise."

Nodding briefly, the brunette follows, and forces himself not to look around.

He can't stop his mind from wandering, however.

_Where are all the rats?_

"Do you really want to know?"

After a few seconds of thought, Wybie shakes his head.

"Thought so," the feline mutters, starting to drift away from the wall. "We're past the cannons."

"There was something... over here," the green-eyed teen frowns. "It was bright orange, like fire. It looked kind of like a little person, but it wasn't moving..."

"A little person you say... like a doll?"

He pauses.

_"It's her spy; she uses it to see what's wrong with your world."_

_"The doll... is my grandma's... spy?"_

_"No! The Other Mother's!"_

"...yeah. Like a doll," Wybie nods,turning his head and approaching the orange glow. "A little doll that would look something... like..."

He lifts his welding mask up to see with his own eyes.

"Coraline."

The little doll rests in the middle of a small stage, alone and unassuming. Wybie recognizes it by its yellow coat and blue hair.

"This won't be so bad," he decides, motioning to step onto the stage to retrieve the item—

"Wait, Wybourne! Don't move."

The teen instantly complies, not yet putting weight on his forward foot.

"What is it...?"

"Listen," Cat orders, crouched low beside the stage. "Listen carefully."

Mystified by the animal's random command, he nevertheless stays quiet, holding his breath to hear...

The sound of countless other, smaller breaths travel up from underneath him, reaching his ears.

_They're under the stage,_ he realizes, paling slightly.

"You step on that stage, you'll wake them up," the feline growls, looking up at his human companion. "Try reaching for it."

"Right," Wybie nods, putting both feet back on solid ground before kneeling, stretching his arm out as far as it will go. "C'mon... Please don't be that far..."

He can't quite reach the little Coraline-doll's hand, no matter how hard he tries.

"Damn," he curses quietly, drawing his hand back to rub his eyes. "How am I supposed to reach it, then...?"

Cat walks in a single circle before sitting back down, looking up at the teen.

"How heavy is that mask of yours?"

The brunette glances down at the black-furred feline.

"Pardon?"

"Can you hold onto it with, say, one hand?" the animal continues, tail twitching only slightly. "Can you stretch it out with one arm and not drop it?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Wybie frowns. "But what good does tha—"

Understanding suddenly dawns.

"Ohhh. I see."

Carefully, he removes his welding mask, grasping the top edge in his right hand as he holds it out.

"C'mon," he whispers, more to himself than anything, as he reaches for the doll. "Please work... please..."

To his immense relief, his mask reaches the doll; carefully, quietly, he drags the small thing across the stage and back to him...

A small black rat pokes its head out of a hole in the middle of the stage.

Wybie freezes.

The rodent's beady red eyes fix on him for a brief moment...

He almost swears that it smiles before leaping out of the hole, darting across the stage and towards the cannons.

"_No—!_"

The rat skitters across the room, straight for the door—

The six cannons fire.

The walls glow with countless red eyes.

"They're everywhere," Wybie chokes.

"Wybourne, _run!_"

He stuffs the doll in his pocket and tucks his mask under his arm before making a dash for the door—

An inhuman screech fills the air as the rats leap towards him, sharp yellow teeth bared.

He swats off the rats that latch onto him and his jacket as best he can; everything else he drowns out—the squeals, the movement, the firing cannons, everything but the door, the open door that is his only salvation—without that door—

The faint light from outside dies as it starts to swing shut.

"_No!_"

Desperation forces him to lunge forward—

He never feels the cold air from outside as the rats slam the old door closed.

And then they leap towards him—

Wybie hasn't even the thought left for tears or despair. Only screaming—only a frightened scream escapes his lips as all he sees are rats, great big black rats that scramble over his legs, over his coat, in his pockets—

His pockets—

_The doll!_

"You're not getting it back!" he forces himself to yell out, dropping his mask, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the doll before holding it to his chest. "It's not yours! It's not hers!"

And he cries out in pain as sharp claws scratch at his face, as pointed teeth try to bite through his thick jacket, as high-pitched shrieks ring in his ears and rats run about in his hair—

Somewhere he had read about how rats can burrow through human flesh—how they will devour the eyes, the tongue, strip a body down to the bones—_I'm going to die here,_ he chokes, _I'm going to be eaten alive by—_

"Wybourne!"

His wild, fearful gaze finds the speaker—

"Throw it over here!" Cat shouts, back by the abandoned stage. "Quickly!"

_What does he want Why Why is he calling me away from the door_

He tightens his grip on the doll as he feels a rat try to wriggle between his hands—

_The doll He wants the doll!?_

No time to think about it; shaking his head to get rid of the rats, Wybie hurls the doll across the room—

Cat catches it in his jaws before leaping up to the barely-open window in the back corner, wriggling through the crack and out of sight before the rats can follow.

Only grim satisfaction for the brunette; all around him the frantic screech of rats grows louder, louder, drowning out what few unpanicked thoughts he can manage, replacing them instead with his fear, his phobia—

They crawl into his jacket sleeves, sinking sharp yellow teeth into his arms.

"_Agh!_"

The pain makes him stumble back out of reflex; his cry encourages the small beasts that swarm him—soon, he feels sharp claws all over his face, sharp teeth gnawing holes in his coat, and all over nothing but pain and fear...

A rat sinks its teeth into his leg; he collapses on the ground, unable to so much as cry out, so much as _breathe_ as the rodents run over his body, across his face, smothering him with their foul scent and their _heat_—

_We are small, but we are many,_ a high, whining voice sounds in his ear. _And you have fallen before us, and you shall see us rise before you from your grave..._

_I'm going to die here—_more teeth sink into his legs, his arms—_She'll have me die here, with—with rats—Let me go home I want to go home why did I come here_

His lungs seem to fail him; his only breaths come in panicked gasps as he feels teeth and claws digging into his skin and hands dragging him away.

Nothing but the rats and the hands...

_...hands? Who—_

Wybie looks up—

"..._up,_ you have to _stand up!_"

Through the shrill squeal of rats, he can hear the soft, urgent voice.

It pleads for him to rise.

"We haven't much time, _stand up!_"

Moved by some force of will greater than his own, Wybie forces himself back onto his feet—

"Yes, like that—hurry! They're trying to close it again, hurry!"

_Close what—?_

He feels a blast of cold air over his body, cold air that drives away the smothering heat.

_The door!_

And though rats still cling to his coat and his hair and his limbs, he runs—no hesitation, no questions, he just runs—he and the person still holding his arm with one hand, through the door, the open door—

He collapses on the balcony, oblivious to the chill, chest heaving as he takes in deep breaths of air.

He lays on his side, only vaguely remembering where he is.

He hears the door lock behind him.

He feels a hand knocking away the freezing, motionless bodies of the rats, then rest on his shoulder.

He looks up.

"We can't stay here. It's too cold... you'll freeze. We have to go inside..."

Only one button remains on the Other Wybie's face; there are deep tears along the side of his fabric-like face, tears that pour forth no blood—only a little sawdust.

The welding mask sits on the ground, beside his foot.

His left hand is missing.

Wybie stares, the words not registering in his mind.

"Here."

The Other Wybie quietly takes his counterpart's hand, pulling him back onto his feet.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly, noticing the fear etched into the teen's wide green eyes. "Come on. We need to go inside... so you don't freeze. Let's go."

The puppet leads his counterpart down the frozen steps, all the while holding his handless left arm over his chest. His one button-eye keeps its gaze fixed on the path before him.

"...Cat."

His voice sounds foreign to his own ears. Weak, tired.

Broken.

"He got away... don't worry. He's waiting for us... in the bottom apartment. He still has the doll."

They reach the bottom of the staircase, and slowly head for the steps leading to the bottom flat.

A thick, choking sob escapes Wybie's lips.

His copy looks back, slightly alarmed.

"No, no—not here. Please... don't cry here," he pleads, dragging the brunette along. "It's too cold here... Please, you... you have to wait 'till we go inside..."

Quickly, the living puppet brings his counterpart to the stairs leading down...

The door to the apartment is open. Cat sits in front of it, blue eyes watching the two Wybies, doll still clutched lightly in his teeth.

They all go inside, and the Other Wybie closes the door behind them.

Hot tears roll down Wybie's scratched, bleeding face as he sinks to the floor.

"N-Never again," he chokes out, pulling his knees in close to his chest and holding them there tightly. "Never! Th-there were so many r-rats... I-I thought I was g-going to... I thought I was going to die...! I was going t-to die,and I was g-going to die alone w-with rats...!"

His copy sits along the wall opposite from him; Cat slowly rubs up against his wounded legs, sitting down beside the teen.

Neither of them say anything as the small anteroom fills with the sound of Wybie's sobs.

* * *

(End chapter eleven.

Long chapter, yes. But I have a request of you, readers.

Please, it's more important to me now than ever before that I know how this chapter made you _feel._ More than anything else, I tried to make this chapter emotional. I would like to know what you felt while reading this.

Please review.)


	12. Suffering

(Fifteen reviews for chapter eleven.

I... I can't say this enough: you're all incredible. Thank you so very, very much.

To nekomouse: You are absolutely correct on the point you made. But unfortunately, in my mind, "brown-haired" _sans "te"_ just bothers me all to hell.

But I've already, in my mind, given Wybie(and countless other brown-haired males) the right to blame me for any problems they develop later in life.

Cat, Other Mother, Coraline © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Twelve: Suffering

* * *

He sits quietly in the corner, green eyes bloodshot from all his tears.

The various wounds and gashes on his body have finally stopped bleeding; nothing worse than scratches covers his face, much to his relief. His jacket, however, is mostly ruined; holes are scattered all over the sleeves, the front—everywhere.

Wybie keeps his knees pressed close to his chest.

He thought he'd be tired, but his mind is in too much turmoil to feel exhaustion.

"Are you okay?"

He glances over at the "far" corner of the small anteroom.

The Other Wybie keeps his concerned gaze on his counterpart, waiting for some response.

"...yeah. I'll be fine," the teen nods, still quiet, still gripped by unsettling fear. "At least, I think so..."

The puppet smiles faintly.

"Cheer up," he says, sitting with his back against the wall. "You got it... you have the doll. There's no need to go back up there. The worst of it is over."

Somehow, this makes him feel a little better.

"You mean it?" Wybie asks, a brief flicker of hope in his eyes.

"Yeah... she can do a lot, but she—she can't make you relive the same horror twice. She didn't make you, so she doesn't have... that power."

The teen breathes out a sigh he didn't even realize he was holding in.

Cat quietly rises from beside the brunette, dropping the doll on the ground before sauntering over to the closed door.

"Well, while you two chitchat some more, I think I'll go make sure _she's_ not looking too hard for us," the feline drawls, pulling the unlatched door slightly open. "I'll be waiting outside."

And before they have time to question him, the black animal steps out, turning only to claw the door shut once more.

"Not very social, is he?" the Other Wybie mumbles, keeping his one button eye fixed on the door.

"He's less like this in the real... well. In my world," Wybie admits, giving his shoulders a small shrug. "Sometimes he'll bring me dead animals—birds and mice, things like that..."

He feels the black button turn its attention to him.

"Mother doesn't make many animals," the puppet shakes his head slowly. "Just the rats upstairs... and the cat has always been her enemy, but she didn't make the cat. I've never seen a bird."

"No? Never...?"

"Only in those books in Coraline's room... I read them, sometimes, when I was waiting for her. I've never seen a... a _real_ bird."

"Oh..."

For some reason, he can't find anything to say.

Wybie had always thought that every kid grew up hearing, seeing, laughing at birds...

_But am I just thinking of how things are at home? Did he ever have a chance to "grow"?_

Quieting his mind, he instead focuses his gaze towards the living puppet in the corner.

The stump sticks out in his mind. No glove, no hand... nothing.

"You've never seen someone with one hand before you came here?"

"Don't you have _hands_ under your gloves?" the teen asks, staring intently at his copy's missing left hand.

The Other Wybie shakes his head. "Just gloves," he sighs, looking down at the sawdust in his left arm. "She... she's always looking for shortcuts with us dolls, you know? Save color... save cloth for impressing the real children. From your world. A do-over like me... nothing new. Nothing nice. Nothing more than necessary. The coat sleeves are my arms now; they weren't always. And the stuffing she used for me... she unfroze Father long enough to take sawdust from him, and pour it into me. That's all..."

"H-How did you...?"

"The rats... bit it off. I didn't care much... I've lost hands before. I was afraid, when they went after my eyes... but I still have it around, somewhere. In a pocket. The one they bit off, I mean. So..."

Quietly, Wybie glances down at his own hands.

The design on the back of his gloves had long ago faded away. Otherwise, they're in perfect condition; not a single hole on either hand, despite the numerous rips in his jacket.

"...here. Take it."

The puppet looks up—

"No—keep it," he shakes his head, averting his gaze so as not to see the glove held out to him. "I'll be—"

"Don't be stupid," the brunette frowns, crawling over to the other side and grabbing his copy's left arm. "You can't go around with one hand, especially if you're all full of sawdust. Here—"

He pulls the glove over the cuff of the Other Wybie's sleeve.

"How's that?"

"Hang on... there," the Other Wybie mumbles, holding the glove to his wrist as he shakes some sawdust from his arm into his new left hand. "That's better... thank you."

"Mm."

They sit in silence for a few moments, save for the sound of the Other Wybie flexing his fingers once more.

"...it doesn't hurt much, you know."

"Huh?"

The living puppet sticks his hand in his right pocket, searching for something.

"It doesn't hurt much, losing parts of yourself, when you're a doll," he repeats, pulling out a sewing needle and a spool of black thread. "Hands and eyes and such... It might hurt Mother. And she can _make_ it hurt, but usually... you just don't feel it there anymore. That's all."

"...you keep calling her 'Mother'," Wybie notices as his copy threads the needle. "Does that mean you're her—?"

"No. At least... not in the way you're thinking," the Other Wybie frowns, sewing his new hand to his arm. "No love from her. She just stitched some fabric together, put sawdust in, and sewed on buttons... and that's how I began my life. That's how she makes all of... When there was more of us, anyways. That's how she made us. She's just my creator... that's all."

He ties a small knot with the thread, then rips it, wiggling his fingers briefly.

"Then why do you call her Mother?"

Silence as the copy rethreads the needle.

"...I was only supposed to be Coraline's friend here, but... I figured out what Mother really wanted. They never told me anything, but I figured it out," he starts, reaching into his left pocket and pulling out a black button. "So I helped Coraline escape. For that, Mother turned me inside out and stuck my body on a flagpole..."

Quietly, he brings the button to where his missing eye would be—

Wybie snatches it and the needle from his hands.

"What—?"

"...I'm helping you," the green-eyed teen frowns, sliding over until he sits directly in front of the Other Wybie. "I can fix things, too. You're not going to stop me from helping you."

The puppet doesn't dare to protest as his counterpart holds the button against his fabric skin, carefully sewing his eye back in place.

"She didn't make me with a voice, the first time," he continues softly, unflinching. "I might've spoiled her plans, after all, by blabbing to Coraline. But after she locked the door... Sometimes with. Sometimes without. Not that it mattered... I was always torn apart in the end. What good would screaming have done? It was just me and her in... in her workshop..."

Wybie makes a small knot before ripping the thread, putting more black twine through the eye of the sewing needle.

"And then one day, she yelled at me—not just one of her rants; she yelled _at_ me. 'You ungrateful brat! I gave you life! I gave that life meaning! I even gave you a _friend,_ and you threw it all away! How dare you treat the gifts your mother gave you so poorly!'"

The teen finds it easier to sew the tears shut than it is to sew eyes back onto faces that resemble his own. He quickly ties off and tears the thread, tucking the needle back in the spool.

"I... I should have known better," the Other Wybie stammers briefly, looking down. "'Y-You're not my _mother,_' I told her. 'Y-You're not _anyone's_ mother. You're just—'"

He suddenly falls silent, drawing his knees close to his chest.

"Hey, are you—?" Wybie starts to ask, tentatively placing a hand on his copy's shoulder.

"Th-The Beldam. I-I called her... th-the B-Beldam."

The Other Wybie shudders, turning his gaze towards the door—as if looking for something that isn't there.

"She was _furious_ wh-when I called her that," he chokes out. "I-I never knew why they... they didn't call her by her true name. I found out... I _paid_ f-for that knowledge. I paid with my life several times over... Sh-she threw me to the fire, cut me apart with scissors, locked me—locked me in the... the top flat... with the rats...!"

He doesn't notice the wide-eyed stare of his counterpart, or the hand on his shoulder clenching into a fist. His own glove-hands cover his eyes, and muffle his pitifully whimpered words.

"She did all that to you... just because you—because you let Coraline escape here and called her what she is?" Wybie asks, shock giving away to rising anger.

A brief, fearful nod only fuels his rage.

"The damn—!"

"It isn't worth it," the Other Wybie interrupts, his voice soft and dismal. "Getting angry. My suffering... it is what it is. But it has to end sometime. Sh-she can't keep doing it forever... She has to die s-sometime, right? And then finally..."

He only barely hears these words; exhaustion may have dulled his senses and thoughts, but smothered fury sharpens them again.

"...no. Not 'finally'. Come on," Wybie snaps, quickly rising to his feet.

The living puppet looks up, surprise in his unblinking eyes.

"Wh-what—?"

"You're not going to wait forever for her to stop torturing you like that," the green-eyed teen cuts off, looking down at his copy. "I'm going to get Coraline out of here, right after I find a way to help you out."

"What?! No—no, don't... don't waste your time on me," the Other Wybie shakes his head, scrambling to his own feet to look his counterpart in the eyes. "I'm not—"

"No, I'm _going_ to help you, and that's the end of that," the brunette interrupts, walking over to the small doll of Coraline and picking it up. "I'm not leaving without trying to help you—especially not after you helped me out _and_ saved my life, _after_ I went and treated you bad."

He casts a sideways glance to the living doll, a crooked grin creeping to his lips as he approaches the door.

"Besides, it'll be easier to deal with her if we work together, right?"

For a second, he stares at a blank expression...

The tentative smile slowly spreads across the Other Wybie's lips.

"Thank you," he says, quietly. "Even if—no... no matter. Thank you."

"Hey, don't thank me yet; we gotta take care of that crazy witch first!" Wybie chuckles, turning the doorknob and pulling it in.

Not even the cold air can change the smile on his face, or the burning thought in the back of his mind.

_She'll have hell to pay for this._

_

* * *

_

(End chapter twelve.

This chapter was kind of odd, I think. But necessary! We can't have Wybie charging blindly off to face the Other Mother while still traumatized to tears, right?

Well, we could, but I didn't want that. That's for another fic.

Please review!)


	13. Deception

(I saw the movie again with a friend. We went at 11 in the morning, hoping to be the only ones in the theater.

We talked more than that family with the four little kids. "The moon has dandruff!"

Coraline, Other Mother, Cat © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Thirteen: Deception

* * *

For all they know, she's listening from the other side of the door, overhearing their whispered plans.

For all they know, her little spies are hiding under the porch, small ears pointed towards them.

They know they don't care.

"She's going to trick you, or try to," the Other Wybie informs, holding the ice-cold welding mask from upstairs in his hands. "She may try to take the doll from you, or make you think it's not where Coraline's eyes are. Don't believe her when she does this..."

"Right," Wybie nods, pulling his hole-ridden coat tighter around his shivering frame.

"Mother will probably get mad... She'll try to stop you from going. Just... don't panic. She can be beaten. When it gets to that point... I'll come in. We—we can figure out what to do then. The most important thing is to get you and Coraline back to your world..."

"But we're going to find a way to help you too," the brunette adds, forcing his teeth not to chatter. "I promise."

"You do realize that she has more to lose now than before," Cat cuts in, blue eyes darting back and forth between the living doll and the human. "She'll do absolutely everything she can to stop you... Are you sure you don't still want my help?"

"If she sees you're gone, maybe she'll let her guard down a bit," Wybie shakes his head, kneeling briefly to scratch behind the feline's ears. "Don't worry too much about us. We can do this."

"...if you insist," the animal replies simply, sauntering off the porch before shooting a backwards glance. "I'll be waiting at home, then. Call if you need anything."

And with his tail held high in the air, Cat darts off into the distant forest and vanishes.

"Are you sure about this?" the Other Wybie asks, nervous.

"...no," the green-eyed teen admits, standing up once more before grasping the cold doorknob of the front door. "But it's too late for doubts, isn't it?"

"Yeah... I guess it is," the puppet nods reluctantly, keeping his black eyes fixed on his counterpart. "...good luck."

"Mm."

The door swings open as he turns the doorknob...

Wybie walks inside, warm air chasing away his chills.

"So... you're back. Shut the door, won't you? You're letting the cold in."

The Other Mother's bitter words make him shudder more than the weather itself.

He leaves the door open behind him as he walks down the hall, entering the parlor room.

The Other Mother stands in the middle of the room, a thin smile on her blood-red lips. Shadows linger in the corners of the room, where the light of the fireplace doesn't quite reach.

Her cracked, pallid face seems to glow with cold anger.

"Did you have fun playing with the rats?" she asks pleasantly, a dark glint in her mismatched eyes.

Wybie forces himself not to grimace.

"A blast," he announces, stuffing his clenched fists into his pockets. "Where's Coraline?"

The sound of light footsteps down creaky stairs quietly fills the small room...

The brunette turns around to see Coraline standing behind him, her black-threaded smile still firmly in place.

"Now hold on, Wybie," the Other Mother cuts in, stepping towards the the teen and his button-eyed friend. "You have to prove that you've _earned_ her back. Have you truly found her eyes?"

Wordlessly, he pulls his right hand out of his pocket...

The old doll of Coraline in her yellow coat stays firmly in his hand as he shows it to the Beldam.

"Here they are," he says, keeping his gaze fixed on the fiend. "Coraline's eyes, hidden in the 'eyes' you used to spy on her."

Wybie had expected her to become furious, or to try and snatch it from him. He wouldn't have put it past her to take Coraline out of the room by force.

Instead, the Other Mother laughs.

"So it seems that I have lost," she shrugs, her grin widening to reveal pointed teeth. "Very well then."

With silent, scuttling steps, she approaches the small door against the far wall, pulling it open.

"It looks like you two get to go home."

"What are you trying to pull?"

Mismatched button eyes stare at the green-eyed teen; the thin-lipped smile never falters. Not so much as a flicker.

"What on earth could you mean?" the Other Mother asks, her voice sweet. "You've won. You get to go home with Coraline."

"For putting up such a fight to get her in the first place, you're giving in pretty easily," Wybie counters, putting his hands at his hips. "Something isn't right."

"If you wish to leave her here with me, I've no objection. But after all you went through, I'd thought maybe you'd like to go home now with her. That's all."

Still distrusting, Wybie turns his head to glance back at Coraline...

She looks back at him.

Same mismatched outfit he first saw her in. Same blue hair.

Same blank stare in her button-eyes.

Same forced smile.

"...come on, then," he mutters, beckoning for Coraline to follow him. "Let's get out of here."

Wybie finds it unnerving that the Other Mother stares at him with such a smug grin. He notices how her long, spindly, metallic fingers tap the top of the small door, always at the same speed—slowly, confidently.

Coraline kneels down by the open door, then glances back at the brunette.

He pauses.

_Something's not right._

"You go first," he insists. "I'll be right behind you."

The blue-haired girl nods, slowly crawling into the passageway between the worlds.

Briefly, Wybie glances down at the doll in his hand.

_...hang on,_ he frowns. _There's a button missing. It only has one eye._

And his own green eyes widen suddenly in realization.

_"So you won with a pair of twos, huh? Just like last time, only I don't think last time even counts. After all, I asked you for that two and you didn't give it to me—"_

Coraline looks over her shoulder to see if Wybie is following her.

After one hard look at her large button eyes and black smile, he slams the door on her, turning his gaze to the Other Mother.

* * *

(End chapter thirteen.

This chapter was originally going to be as long _American Gods_. Thank goodness I had a mini epiphany. Chapter fourteen will be pretty long, as opposed to ultra-long thirteen.

Please review!)


	14. Evasion

(Chapter fourteen started to get really long. So I'm splitting it into more parts.

It'll be kind of like Zelda, with a million parts to the final battle. Am I right or am I right?

Other Mother, Coraline © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Fourteen: Evasion

* * *

For a few moments, they glare at one another, hate and anger shimmering in both sets of eyes.

They both notice how nobody pushes the small door open from the other side.

"Now, what did you do that for?" she scolds, her smile finally vanishing in favor of a frown. "You'll have to explain your rudeness to Coraline now—"

"That wasn't Coraline," Wybie scowls, shoving the doll back in his pocket. "You made a copy of her to fool me!"

"Are you accusing me of cheating?"

"I _know_ you are. You sewed Coraline's mouth shut with red thread. I remember—I couldn't tell if it was blood. But it was too bright to be blood. That... that _thing_ you gave me had a black smile!"

Silence.

The smug grin slowly starts to resurface.

"I guess you're not as stupid as I thought you were," she hisses, her crooked frame towering over Wybie. "Yes, you're right; it wasn't Coraline. But _you_ haven't won the game."

"Don't you give me that," the brunette snaps. "You're not fooling me."

"Oh, no, I'm being quite honest now..."

The Beldam's grin shows her sharp teeth.

"After all, I asked you to bring me her _eyes._ You've only brought me her left one—more than I expected, but still not enough."

"...clever," Wybie growls, stepping sideways towards the doorway. "Fine, then. I'll be back with her right eye soon."

"You think the game's still going?"

Chuckling darkly, the Other Mother quickly darts over to the doorway, blocking the path as she glares down at the teen.

"You've come back in and claimed victory," she smirks, watching the green-eyed teen shrink away slightly. "But you've lost. And that means _I_ win... and _that_ means _you—_"

One moment, he stands on his own feet; the next, he feels the Beldam's sharp fingers digging into his side, holding him in the air as she strides down the hall.

"_Hey!_ Put me _down!_"

"—let me put buttons in your eyes," she continues smoothly, a lilt to her voice as she approaches the staircase leading to the basement. "While I'm at it, perhaps I'll fix you up, make you of tougher stuff... After all, cotton is too fragile a material to make a rat's plaything out of."

"You're not making me of _anything!_" Wybie yells, seizing the corner of the wall as the Beldam starts walking down to the basement. "You're _not_ bringing me down there!"

"Ha! So you come so far, and now your true colors show, don't they? You little cheating boy..."

Her sharp fingers dig ever deeper into his side; it's all he can do to not cry out as they pierce his skin, drawing blood.

His fingers start to slip.

"_No!_ I won't let you put buttons over my eyes!"

"Do you truly, foolishly believe that you can stop me?!" the Beldam crows, her tone still triumphant.

Through her fierce voice and the pain in his hands and his side, he can hear footsteps—footsteps much like his own.

"Not alone," Wybie growls, struggling to hold on for that one extra second. "But I'm not alone here!"

Something somewhat large and somewhat heavy flies through the air—

The Beldam's horrid screech of pain falls on deaf ears as Wybie falls to the ground, catching his welding mask.

It's still cold.

"Come on!"

No need to tell him twice—Wybie scrambles to his feet, following the Other Wybie in a mad dash down the hall.

"_You! You'll never learn, will you!?_"

"She tried to send me off with a fake Coraline!" the teen shouts over the Beldam's shrieking. "She said I didn't have both of Coraline's eyes!"

"Then the first thing we need to do is find Coraline," the living doll replies, looking for the stairs that lead up. "After that—"

"_Come back here!_"

Simultaneously, they look over their shoulders—

"Run faster!" Wybie yells as the Beldam, half a hall down, rushes towards them with terrifying speed.

"Up the stairs!"

No hesitation—they both dash up the winding staircase, barely a step ahead of their frenzied pursuer.

"Which way?" the Other Wybie asks.

"Here!" his counterpart barks, grabbing his copy's hand and going left. "Coraline's room!"

They barely get in in time to slam the door on the Beldam; Wybie leans against it to hold it shut, struggling to hold his ground.

"Hey! Take this," he snaps, holding out the mask until the Other Wybie takes it from his hands. "We've got to find a way out of here—"

"..._Look._"

The brunette turns his head—

"Oh my god," he gasps, eyes widening.

Everywhere he looks, there are dolls; piled on the bed, scattered on the floor—nailed to the wall, glued to the windows.

Every one of them looks like Coraline.

"What's going on here?!" Wybie demands, feeling the door lurch forward as he struggles to keep it shut. "Why do they all look like Coraline?!"

"She's trying to throw us off track," the button-eyed puppet realizes, holding the mask in his hands. "She wants us to think one of these dolls is—"

A sharp, metallic hand punches through the wood, desperately reaching down for the doorknob.

"Augh!"

"You can't run away forever...!" a voice half-hums, half-hisses from the other side of the door.

_Not good!_ Wybie screams internally, shrinking away from the hand as it reaches towards him. _Not good, not good, how are we supposed to get out now—_

He slips as the Beldam nearly slams the door open again, the wood starting to crack from the force.

"It won't hold up much longer!" the Other Wybie gasps, watching as splinters fly off the door with each sudden lurch. "She'll—"

"Shh!" the brunette suddenly cuts off, still leaning against the door but moving closer to the wall. "...Get over here. Quickly!"

He wastes no time obeying his counterpart, cringing each time the Beldam nearly throws herself through the door.

"One," Wybie whispers, hands firmly grasping the doorknob. "Two... _three!_"

As fast as he can manage, he turns the doorknob and throws the door open—

The Beldam's body lurches forward, stumbling to regain balance.

"Come on!"

She whips back around—

Wybie and the Other Wybie have already fled, running back down the stairs they just ascended.

"You can't run forever!" she screams, wrenching her hand out of the door but not following after them. "Even if you try to escape now, even if you find her body, all you'll be bringing back is her corpse! You'll never find her other eye, and you'll never bring her soul back to your world!"

Wybie tries desperately to ignore her words.

_You're wrong,_ he counters. _I won't fail! You won't stop me from saving her!_

* * *

(End chapter fourteen.

Not much left to explain, I think. Chapter fifteen should hopefully be up soon.

Please review!)


	15. Hiding Games

(Ideas just keep spawning all over the place. And so is Neil Gaiman! I can't seem to get away from the guy now. It's like the number twenty-three, you know?

Coraline, Other Mother © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Fifteen: Hiding Games

* * *

They stop running when they realize they're no longer being followed.

"Where is she...?" the Other Wybie wonders aloud, looking around down the hall they just traveled.

"I don't know, but if this means we get to take a short break from running for our lives, I could use it," Wybie wheezes, clutching his chest. "I _hate_ running in houses. Too much turning down halls and such."

"...here. We should still hurry. Where did you last see Coraline?" the living doll asks, shoving the welding mask back in his counterpart's hands.

"In... in a room that belongs to her father in our world, I think," the teen struggles to recall, taking his mask and tucking it under his arm. "There were a bunch of dolls in it—"

"The study? This way."

The Other Wybie leads the brunette back down the twisting halls—halls whose colors fade, whose paper peels and falls to the floor in thin strips.

Behind these walls, everything starts to fade to black.

"What on earth...?"

"Here."

The button-eyed brunette pushes the door open—

Tiny dolls hang from the ceiling, thin ropes wrapped around their thin necks.

"...It almost looks they're watching us," Wybie mutters, closing the door behind him and putting his mask on his head, but not lowering it over his face just yet.

"I don't like this room," the Other Wybie whispers, fearfully following in his counterpart's footsteps. "Before, it had a piano with hands that helped Mother. They're gone, but I still don't like it. Can you make it quick? We shouldn't stay in here very long anyways—"

"Right. I know."

Quietly, he pulls the mask over his face...

The room fades to shades of grey; the dolls hanging from the ceiling, however, glow with bodies blacker than the sky outside, their small eyes paler than the moon.

He can see their white, threaded smiles.

"Hey, if she changed Coraline's body, would it still glow?" the green-eyed teen asks his copy.

Silence.

"...Hey, you still—"

"Oh no..."

Wybie looks over his shoulder to see the living doll trembling where he stands, black button eyes staring at the ceiling.

"What? What is it?" the brunette asks, pushing his mask up.

"They... they _are_ watching us. All of them," the Other Wybie whimpers. "_Look._"

A sinking feeling in his gut doesn't stop him from looking up—

Countless dead, unblinking eyes stare down at the two on the ground.

Wybie can almost swear that their smiles are slowly changing into something sinister.

"Come on. We're done here," he hisses quietly under his breath, grabbing his copy's arm and heading for the door. "She's not in he—"

Three dolls drop down from the ceiling, hanging in front of the door, their blank eyes staring directly into Wybie's.

The Other Wybie jerks away, a faint, uncomfortable whine escaping his lips.

"Are you looking for this?"

The brunette has no time to ponder where the small voice came from; something falls to the bare wooden floor, bouncing briefly before landing at his feet.

A large, black button.

"No," Wybie shakes his head, knowing enough to not take the bait. "Out of my way."

"Of course not; he's looking for this!"

He turns to see four more dolls lowering, another button falling from their tiny fabric hands.

"I'm not looking for anything in here! Leave us alone already!"

"What about this?"

"Is it this?"

"This one, this one..."

All at once, dozens of small voices fill the air.

Soon, they're accompanied by the sound of falling buttons. Hundreds and hundreds of big, black, falling buttons.

"Stop it!" Wybie snaps, knocking the first three dolls out of the way before laying his hand on the doorknob. "I don't need your help!"

"You don't? Why not?"

"C'mon, let's—"

"If you don't need ours, then you don't need his either..."

Wybie glances back—

The three dolls drape themselves over the Other Wybie's head and shoulders.

In their small hands, he can see black thread.

"Our favorite game," the voice of a small girl says, "is to play Fall Apart. You just pull on the seams as hard as you can, and watch as he turns back into dust. It's quite fun! Wanna play?"

The Other Wybie trembles.

_Don't say "no",_ he mouths, unable to speak. _Please don't say "no"..._

Biting his lip, Wybie bring his left hand to the side of his head, running it through his frizzy brown hair.

_If I say no, they'll do it anyways. I can't say yes; I'm not going to sacrifice him like that. I can't say_—

His fingers brush over something smooth stuck in his hair. He grasps it lightly.

Sharp edges dig into his skin as he starts to pull the thin, triangular object out.

_...Perfect._

"...A-actually, I _would_ like to play," the teen nods slowly, carefully bringing his hand by his side to conceal the object. "But! Not with him."

"Who with, then?" the little voice asks as the three dolls turn their heads to look at Wybie. "You? But you don't have any seams to tear apart yet..."

Quietly, the teen glances at the thin ropes hanging from the ceiling.

Buttons still falling from nowhere start to pile around his feet.

"Yeah, I don't," he nods, silently tightening his grip on the sharp item. "But, uh, I know someone who does."

"Yes, and so do we—"

Wybie lashes out his arm suddenly.

"Come on!" he snaps, pulling the door open and dragging the Other Wybie back out into the hall.

The three dolls fall to the ground, their ropes severed.

"No... don't go!" the girl's voice cries out feebly as the green-eyed teen starts to pull the door shut. "Please play with us. She won't let us play with her daughter! We're—"

"Crazy!"the brunette cuts off. "As if I'm going to play with a bunch of homicidal dolls!"

He barely manages to shut the door before buttons come spilling out into the hall. He hears them on the other side, lightly tapping the walls and door as each one hits.

"Whew... every room in this house is its own mini-nuthouse, huh?" Wybie sighs, turning around. "You alright?"

The Other Wybie nods shakily, tucking the loose ends of threads back into his coat and under his hair.

"You... you saved my life," he manages to say, a grateful smile creeping to his lips. "Thank you... What did you do to them, anyways?"

"Huh? Oh..."

Looking down at his bleeding hand, the brunette uncurls his fist.

"I saw Coraline in a mirror, back in our world," he shrugs, staring at his reddened reflection in the reflective shard. "When she disappeared, I broke the mirror. Most of what fell in my hair I brushed off, but I guess... this piece... didn't..."

His eyes widen.

"The mirror."

"What?"

Wybie looks up at his copy, a look of shock and realization etched into his face.

"I didn't see Coraline in this world," he says, holding the mirror piece out. "Last place I saw her was back home, stuck in the mirror! That's where—that's where..."

He suddenly falls silent, then shakes his head.

"Who am I kidding?" he groans, dropping the mirror shard back in his pocket. "People don't get stuck in _mirrors..._"

"...right. And dolls don't talk, and people with buttons for eyes can't see. Right?"

The Other Wybie's voice is a cross between elation and frustration as he grasps his counterpart's arm, dragging him down the hall.

"I think I know where Coraline is."

"You do?!"

"Yeah," the puppet nods, stopping as he turns around a corner. "In there."

Wybie looks to where his copy is pointing...

"...in the mirror?" he asks, approaching his reflection with the Other Wybie.

"Well, sort of," the living doll shrugs, letting go of Wybie's arm and putting both hands to the mirror. "On the other side of the mirror. You get there by being thrown in, or... here. Put your hand on the mirror."

"Okay...?"

The brunette frowns confusedly as he does so, expecting to feel the cold glass...

His hand slips through, as though through water.

"How on—?!"

"Keep going."

Wide-eyed and dumbfounded, Wybie steps through the mirror.

* * *

(End chapter fifteen.

I'm greatly enjoying this.

Please review!)


	16. Plans

(It was very hard to start this chapter, listening to "Sirens of the Sea". But I managed.

Fun fact: chapters thirteen through the next one were all going to be one chapter. That would have been... an experience.

This chapter is dedicated to all my reviewers for being awesome.

Coraline, Other Mother © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie, Mrs. Lovat © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Sixteen: Plans

* * *

All he sees is black—one great, unyielding curtain of black.

"Man, I can't see _anything_..." Wybie mutters, rubbing at his eyes and blinking them a few times. "There we go..."

He can feel the cold and darkness surround him.

The spiderwebs in the corner seem to glow with a faint green light... a green light that comes from the wall behind him.

He recognizes this room.

"...You threw me in here," he murmurs, looking around as the Other Wybie joins him in the room behind the mirror. "When I first got here. You took my mask, then."

"Mother told me to get you out of her way," the doll admits quietly. "I took the mask to fix it. After all, you were going to need some help when you decided to play the game with Mother."

"Yeah..."

Sighing, the brunette glances at the far corner...

Green eyes fall on a silent, shivering body lying on the bed, covered in a thin, white blanket.

"...Coraline?"

Hardly daring to hope, Wybie quickly approaches the bedside, pulling back the sheet—

A bright red smile greets him, grinning from a pale face.

Blue hair falls in front of black button eyes.

"Coraline!"

The quiet fear that has long gripped his heart finally releases its hold; Wybie pulls his friend up into a sitting position...

Elation fades as he notices.

She's quite cool to the touch.

"Coraline...?"

"Is something wrong?" the Other Wybie asks, noticing the concern in his counterpart's voice and growing worried himself.

"She... she's really cold," the teen replies, sitting on the edge of the bed, lightly grasping Coraline's chilly, white hand with his bloodied one. "Is she—?"

"No... no, she's still alive. Look, she's breathing," the living doll shakes his head, slowly approaching them yet keeping a slight distance. "But since Mother took her eyes... Try giving her the doll. That might help her some..."

Nodding briefly, Wybie pulls the small, ragged doll from his pocket, placing it in Coraline's open palm and closing her fingers around it.

She shudders; her head rolls, flopping against the brunette's shoulder...

The doll glows briefly, then loses its faint orange shine as the button falls away from Coraline's left eye.

A low groan escapes her stitched lips.

"I-it worked...!" Wybie gasps, green eyes wide in amazement.

"...W-well, it... it sort of worked," the Other Wybie corrects nervously, pointing to Coraline's face. "Look."

The stitches that hold the right button in place haven't so much as started to fray.

"...just one button? Then..."

"Then Mother wasn't lying," the puppet frowns, watching as his counterpart picks up the fallen button from the mattress and holds it up. "She still has Coraline's right eye. Somewhere... Probably with her."

"But we can't leave her here like this while we go looking for it," the brunette protests, pushing his mask back up as it starts to fall in front of his face. "Who knows what might happen to her? Least of all the Bel—"

"_Shh!_"

The Other Wybie cringes before bringing a finger to his lips.

"Please, don't... don't use _that_ name," he whispers, fear in his unblinking eyes. "It... it brings back... unpleasant memories."

"O-Oh... Sorry."

For a short while, there's a slightly discomforting silence.

"A-Anyways," the living doll finally starts, his changing expression illuminated by the soft green glow from the wall. "You're right. But we can't carry her with us... and we can't bring her back to your world... Not yet. Not like this. What to do..."

Quietly, he paces the small, cold room as he thinks; his counterpart, too, ponders over what to do next.

_Where is the Beldam, anyways?_ he asks himself, running his thumb over the surface of the smooth black button before holding it up to his eye.

Instead of blinding him, like he expected, Wybie merely sees everything in various shades of grey.

_Whoa..._

"...I-if we could... If we could put her in the passageway to your world... that would be best," the Other Wybie announces hesitantly, as though doubting his own idea. "Mother can't go in that passage..."

"Then how did she get Coraline?" Wybie asks, frowning in confusion.

"...She made more rats than she knew what to do with. _They_ can go wherever she needs them to..."

"Oh..."

His features relax briefly before his frown deepens once more.

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. Can you go in that tunnel?"

"I... If I stay on this side, and the door doesn't latch shut..."

The Other Wybie turns to look at the brunette.

"Why?"

"Well, haven't you noticed?" the teen shrugs, turning the button over in his hand. "The Other Mother hasn't been following us lately. But do _you_ think she's just letting us roam this house freely?"

It takes a moment for realization to dawn, but it does all the same.

"...She's waiting for us in that room," the puppet whispers. "She's guarding the way out."

"Exactly," Wybie nods, reaching into his right pocket to pull out a card.

The two of clubs.

"How are we going to get past her, then?"

Tense silence as the Other Wybie waits for an answer.

"_'Those who see through others' eyes will live to see the brighter skies,'_" the teen recites quietly, holding the button up once more. "Something my grandma told me when I was being a brat, once. It gives me an idea."

"Really?" the button-eyed brunette asks, hopeful.

"Yeah. Over here—just in case _she's_ listening, you know?"

The Other Wybie obeys, quickly approaching his counterpart and sitting on the cold stone floor.

"Alright," Wybie sighs, leaning over, bringing his voice to a whisper. "Here's the plan..."

* * *

(End chapter sixteen.

Two rhymes in one story. What next?

Please review!)


	17. Trickery

(School hasn't been this busy in a while. I'm amazed I got the chapter up as soon as I did, and it's been a while since I updated.

As a side note, I will still call Wybie a brunette whenever I damn well feel like. I will regret nothing from the experience. :]

Coraline, Other Mother © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Seventeen: Trickery

* * *

They re-emerge from behind the mirror, standing once more in the hall.

"My god..." Wybie gasps, the mask over his face hiding his widening eyes.

Wallpaper lies on the floor, shredded and curled into tiny pieces; the walls and floor take on a thick, tarry color—a color that seems to swallow up light, and exude only darkness.

The green, glowing image of a web, embedded in the shadowy floor, dimly illuminates the halls.

"Ohh... I don't like this at all," the Other Wybie shudders, cringing slightly. "She... she's _really_ mad. She's turning this whole house into—"

"Complaining and worrying won't do any good, now," the brunette interrupts quietly, tightly holding Coraline's arms to keep her from slipping off his back. "Let's just go and hope this works..."

Silently, they travel the darkened hallways, listening.

Listening carefully.

_Can you see us, Beldam? Do you know where we are?_

The three green lenses on the welding mask emit their own faint light.

_Do you know what we're planning?_

"Here. The door..."

The double-doors of the parlor room, still the same shade of brown, are closed.

"Come on," the Other Wybie beckons for his counterpart to come closer, brushing the cobwebs from the cold handle and grasping it. "This is it..."

With a loud creak, the living doll pushes the door open, and he and the brunette both look in.

Glowing white spiderwebs cover the cracked walls—walls that seem to bleed black over themselves. The fire in the fireplace, earlier roaring with great orange flames, now flickers feebly with a faint blue light.

The little door on the far wall is open.

"Come on! The door's open. Let's get out of here while—"

"Wh-where is she? You said—shouldn't M-Mother be here...?"

"Don't question luck! Let's just go before she finds us."

"R-Right...!"

Cautiously, they dart over to the small door. The Other Wybie reaches it first; Wybie struggles to not drop Coraline while his copy looks back, watching for anything.

Watching for _her._

_Where are you hiding...?_

Nervously, he brings his right hand up to his black button eyes.

They shift at the slight touch.

"Oof! Jeez... Here, help me out. She's kind of hard to move."

Nodding quickly, the living doll kneels down, helping his counterpart place the blue-haired girl into the tunnel.

Looking in, he can see sunlight shining from the other side.

"Go on," the Other Wybie urges, lightly pushing the brunette into the passage along with Coraline. "Get her back. Make sure she's safe..."

"What about you?" Wybie counters. "I promised... and—and she'll kill you for this. She'll kill you a hundred times over—"

"Don't worry about—"

Plaster dust falls from the ceiling.

They hear movement, slow and deliberate.

The Other Wybie looks up.

"Oh, _sh—!_"

The Other Mother drops from the ceiling, a horrible screech flying from her lips—

They barely manage to leap out of the way in time.

"Oh no," Wybie gasps, scrambling to his feet and away from the monster. "Oh no oh no..."

She chuckles darkly, her many spidery legs holding up her twisted form.

"Desperate, aren't you?" the Beldam hisses, her thin, blood-red lips parted in a terrible grin. "Trying to escape even when you don't have both her eyes, and you know it..."

She kicks the door shut before scuttling over, her unblinking, mismatched eyes focused intently on the cowering brunettes.

"I am going to have so much _fun,_ making you pay for betraying your mother again," she hums, watching with twisted delight as the Other Wybie backs away in fear. "You thought you were suffering before? You know _nothing..._"

Quickly, Wybie darts between the Other Mother and her creation, arms outstretched as if to defend the living doll.

"I won't let you hurt him again," he snaps, glaring eyes hidden behind the welding mask. "You won't make him suffer anymore!"

"Oh, how _noble_ you sound, boy!" the Beldam cackles. "It wasn't enough for you to play the knight in shining armor for your dearest Coraline, was it? Now you're going to martyr yourself for someone who doesn't even have a reason to live anymore. Well, we can't have your sacrifice be _wasted,_ now can we?"

She snatches for his coat—

The Other Wybie shoves his counterpart out of the way.

He feels sharp, needle-like fingers digging into his left arm.

"...hmph. My biggest mistake... you always _were_ in my way. I suppose _you'll_ just have to wait for _your_ punishment," the fiend scowls, tightening her grip even as the puppet winces. "Well, why don't you stick around in here for a while?"

"Wha—?"

With a mere toss over her shoulder, the Beldam flings the Other Wybie to the far wall.

"_Ghaaa—oof!_"

The world seems to jolt out of position as he slams against the wall...

It hurriedly falls back into place when he realizes he's stuck a foot above the floor.

"Wh-what is this—!?" he cries, struggling to pull himself away from the wall.

The webbing holds him solidly in place.

"Well, now that _you're_ finally out of the way," the Other Mother smiles, her cracked face bleeding thin ribbons of black, "it's time to fix _this_ one..."

Wybie feels her towering shadow fall upon him—

He has no time to cry out as a metallic hand grips his neck, lifting him off the floor.

"Put me _down!_ Put me—!"

"After cheating like that? I don't think so," she laughs, her tone harsh and cold as she carries him, struggling mightily for freedom, out of the room. "No, I simply have to fix you. After all, you _are_ so very badly broken."

"_No!_ Let me _go! I won't let you put buttons over my eyes!_"

"Oh, you won't _let_ me!"

The fiend has to stop in the doorway; small flakes of white skin and dust from her black dress fall slowly to the floor as cruel laughter nearly makes her double over.

"It always becomes _so_ much more fun when they try to be _brave,_" the Other Mother smirks, holding up the teen in her grasp so that she looks straight at his masked face. "I wonder, how scared are you? Let's take a look and see!"

She raises her right arm, ready to knock the mask from off Wybie's face—

"_Leave him alone, Beldam!_"

Perfect stillness.

Perfect silence.

Wybie slips out of a slackened grip, falling ungracefully to the floor.

"_What did you call me?_" she hisses, turning to face the trapped puppet on the wall.

He forces himself not to flinch.

"Y-You heard me, _Beldam,_" he spits out, clenching his fists as tight as he can. "Leave him alone. He's not the one you're really after! _I_ am!"

"How _dare_ you use that name!" the fiend shrieks, her twisted body convulsing with rage. "What do you think you _are!?_"

Behind her, the Other Wybie can see his counterpart shakily rise to his feet...

"Just a puppet," he retorts, watching as the monster—his creator—takes rapid, scuttling steps towards him. "But I'm not _your_ puppet anymore! I'm not afraid of you, Beldam! I'm not—!"

A choked cry of pain escapes his lips as the Beldam rips him from the wall, her mismatched eyes blazing with fury.

"Then I will _teach_ you fear," she snarls, her sharp fingers digging into the living doll's shoulder, chuckling darkly at his contorted expressions of pain. "You will learn your _place_ while hanging onto your pathetic life by a _thread._ And _oh,_ when that thread snaps, I will _laugh..._ and you will fall, _begging_ for mercy—"

A small creak.

Two sets of black button eyes look towards the little door in the wall—

A masked face disappears as the door slams shut.

"_No!_"

He can't help it; even as he falls to the floor, dropped in her shock, the Other Wybie laughs, loud and hard, at her panic, at her loss...

His laughter instantly morphs into a muffled cry of pain as dagger-like fingers slash at his face—

He howls, covering his face with his arms as he curls onto his side.

Two black buttons roll along the floor, thread still running through the eyelets, stopping at the Beldam's feet.

"Clever boy, clever boy," she hisses, her white face flaking off slowly to reveal blackened skin. "You got him out, you tricky little scum... But you couldn't save Coraline! Did you forget about her other eye, hm? And all along it was right in front of you..."

Half-humming, half-singing an unnervingly soothing song, she reaches up to her face, loosening the thread that holds her right eye in place...

A large patch of skin falls to the blackened floor, landing with a a soft, sickening _fflumph_.

"All this time you spent looking, and it was right _here,_" the Beldam whispers, holding the button above the trembling body of the living doll. "Just out of reach..."

"...her eyes... were where yours were... of course," he sighs weakly, rolling onto his back, lowering his arms away from his face, but covering it still with his hands. "So obvious..."

"It is, isn't it? And now, there's nothing you can do to help them. Now I get to teach you—"

His hands shoot up suddenly.

Bloody, skin-covered fingers wrap around the small button clutched in a mechanical hand.

"You get to teach me _nothing!_"

He pries the button from the Beldam's grasp...

Wybie's bright, green eyes, surrounded on all sides by blood, burn defiantly.

* * *

(End chapter seventeen.

-Faceplant-

Please review!)


	18. Blinding

(Things are going to be busy for a while. Sorry for the long pause between updates, but I hope the chapter quality makes up for it.

Other Mother, Coraline © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Eighteen: Blinding

* * *

Silence, save for the sound of him rising to his feet.

Silence, save for the slow _drip-drip_ of blood falling to the floor.

Silence, save for the crackling of the fading fire.

"..._you._"

Her voice, oddly blank, falters like the flames in the fireplace.

"Me," Wybie responds, inching slowly over towards the small door, never daring to look away.

He holds the small black button in his bloody fingers.

Coraline's right eye.

"How could I have not seen this?" the Beldam asks herself aloud, still keeping her blank, one-eyed gaze on the brunette.

"Dunno. Glad you did, though," he admits, the gashes on his face still burning with pain. "I wasn't sure that would work, y'know? It was _hard,_ talking like him... and hearing him not be all scared? Nearly threw me for a loop for a minute."

Less than three feet between him and freedom.

_Almost there..._

"So you think you've won, then, don't you, boy?"

Her inhuman hiss freezes him in place.

"I-I _know_ I've won," he forces himself to answer, tightening his grasp on the button in his hand, cursing himself for stuttering. "You've lost."

"I haven't lost _yet._"

The floor suddenly vanishes from beneath Wybie's feet.

"_Ghaaa!_"

Holding his hands close to his chest, he can't keep the panicked scream from escaping his lips—

"_Oof!_"

The "ground" that he falls on twists and sinks around him, never forming a wholly solid surface. Confused and slightly dazed, the teen looks around...

His surroundings remind him strongly of an enormous spider's web, with threads of metal instead of silk.

"You haven't won yet, you little brat."

Wybie looks up upon hearing the Beldam's voice from above.

Her dark, twisted, spidery body scuttles across the walls of the room, resting over the small door.

"You've only won when you get home," she hisses, lip parted in a wolfish grin as she leers down at the wide-eyed brunette. "But there's only one way out of here, boy, and you won't be getting past me again..."

_No! I can't—I can't let her make me give up,_ the teen orders to himself, shoving the black button into his coat pocket. _There's gotta be a way out of here..._

"I can wait a long time—so if you're thinking of that, you should give it up. I don't tire easily. But you... How long has it been since you slept, boy?" the Beldam croons, a dark chuckle following her words. "You're struggling to stay awake, aren't you? To think of a plan. And all to help a girl who won't even remember a thing you've done for her. Why bother, then?"

_Why bother...?_

He struggles to find a suitable response.

_Why bother, then?_

"B-Because... I..."

_Why?_

_"Hey, Wybie—why'd you go out that night, anyways? Not that I'm not grateful for you saving my life and all, but you never did say why."_

_"Well, Grandma had just found that picture, you know? Of her and her sister. So I went out for a ride to think about everything you'd said, and happened to see that hand dragging you away."_

_"Okay... but then, why'd you help me? After I was such a jerk to you and all..."_

_"Because, well..."_

"Because—"

"You don't even know, do you?" the Beldam taunts, a tarry substance dripping from where her white skin had been. "Gallivanting off out of a sense of duty, with no real reason for what you do. And now look where it's landed you—"

Her words turn into a shriek as her body suddenly lurches, and she nearly falls from her spot on the wall—

The little door slams against her warped body once more, intent on dislodging the monster.

Wybie catches a small card that flutters down, bent and torn as though it had been stuck in the lock of a door to keep it from shutting all the way.

The two of clubs.

"_No! How are you still alive?!_" the Beldam screams, struggling to keep her place on the web-covered wall. "_I created you to—_"

"I'm not your puppet anymore!" the Other Wybie yells, throwing the door once more against his "mother." "You don't control me anymore! You _won't_ control me anymore!"

With a final shove, he knocks her off the wall.

Wybie scrambles out of the way as the shrieking fiend falls to the bottom of the metal web.

"Come on, hurry!" the puppet urges to his counterpart, beckoning, looking down with one black button-eye.

He wastes no time; the green-eyed teen quickly scales the metal web, not pausing even as the Beldam's wild thrashing twists and bends the cold metal "threads." The blood on his left hand sticks to the metal, leaving behind a trail of red—a trail that he doesn't bother trying to cover up.

_Almost there. Almost there—!_

_"But then, why'd you help me?"_

_"Because, well—"_

"She's coming! Hurry!"

Snapping out of his slight stupor, Wybie reaches over the ledge that separates the web-floor from the walls, grasping his copy's hand. Dragged into the small tunnel, he collapses beside Coraline on the dust-covered floor, accidentally getting dirt into his deep wounds.

"_Ow!_ Oh, man, it _stings_ like a—"

"Don't worry about that," the Other Wybie interrupts, helping his counterpart sit up. "Do you have it? Her other eye?"

"Yeah—yeah. Here it is..."

Reaching into his pocket, the brunette pulls the blood-stained button out.

_Please, let this work...!_

Swallowing nervously, he takes Coraline's hand, prying open the fingers that are closed tightly around the small, ragged doll.

He places the button into her palm...

Her fingers close of their own accord.

A small groan escapes her stitched lips.

An icy hand wraps around the brunette's ankle, pulling him out of the tunnel.

"_Wha—!_"

Flailing, Wybie barely manages to grab hold of the ledge; his fingers slip before the living doll can grab hold of him, and the Beldam drags him back into the other world.

"Let me _go!_" he cries, clinging desperately to the metal "threads" of the web and ignoring how they dig into his skin. "Let me _go,_ you _demon!_"

"A demon, am I?" she cackles, releasing the teen's ankle to instead seize his throat. Lifting him into the air, she tightens her grasp before adding, "You never answered my question. You never said why you bothered..."

_"After I was such a jerk to you and all..."_

_"Because..."_

"B-Because... Because I—!"

The cold hand around his neck tightens; the words die in his throat, consumed by his lungs' burning demand for air.

"What's that? I can't _hear_ you," the Beldam hisses, holding Wybie a little closer. "Aren't you going to say anything before I sew your mouth shut once and for all?"

Desperately, he claws at the hand around his neck—to no avail. Spots start to dance before his eyes, growing larger as his body writhes, screaming for oxygen.

He can't tell if the panicked voice calling his name is real or just a figment of his dying mind's imagination.

"Nothing to say? And here I thought you'd be stubborn to the very end," the Beldam sighs, a twisted smile on her lips as she shakes Wybie slightly. "It's amazing how fragile, how... doll-like you really are. But don't worry; I can fix that..."

Even her voice seems distant and muffled in the brunette's ears as everything slowly fades to black.

_Sorry, Coraline,_ he says silently; only a choking gasp escapes his lips. _I lost... You have your eyes, go home, go home and forget about me..._

_"But then, why'd you help me?"_

His hands, frantically prying at the Beldam's hand, grow still.

_"Because, well..."_

"C-Cor—Corali—ine—"

He sees the Beldam leering at him with her one button eye, a triumphant grin on her face.

_"Well, isn't that what friends do? When they're in trouble, they help each other. Right?"_

A silent gasp; his eyes widen.

_No... no, I can't die here... I have to help Coraline, she's still not safe, even if she has her eyes..._

Only the black, hateful stare of the monster that had been the Other Mother fills his vision.

_Your eyes..._

His own start to roll back into his head.

_You can't see without your eyes..._

With the last of his fading strength, Wybie lashes his hands out, reaching for the Beldam's face.

The cold, bloody fingers of his right hand wrap around a round, black button.

He yanks on it as hard as he can...

The last thing he hears is a horrifying scream, inhuman and deafening, before the world around him dies away.

* * *

(End chapter eighteen.

I did _not_ expect it to be this long, be this complicated, or take this long to write. I hope you enjoy it.

Please review.)


	19. Disappearing

(MIRACLES

DO

HAPPEN.

I just bought Coraline, so I am BACK to FINISH THIS THING. Let's see if I can finish before I move into my dorm!

Other Mother, Coraline © Neil Gaiman

Wybie, Other Wybie © Henry Selick)

* * *

Last Chances

Chapter Nineteen: Disappearing

* * *

_"C'mon, you slacker!"_

_"Aw jeez, Coraline, give me a break!"_

_No carefree smile graces her face as she pulls on his arm, trying to drag him to his feet._

_"Get up!"_

_"I am up!"_

_"No, you're not! _You have to get up!"

"'M up..."

Two fingers strongly pinch the back of his arm.

Wybie's eyes sleepily flutter open.

"Wha...?"

"_Finally!_" the other Wybie exclaims, struggling to keep his footing on the unstable surface. "You're awake again. Come on, you have to get out of here!"

"Out of... what's going on...?"

Groggy and with a pounding headache, Wybie stands up—

"_Whoa!_"

He becomes very much awake after nearly falling through the gaps in the metal web.

"Come _on!_" the Other Wybie urges, the panicked expression on his face never leaving. "You have to get out before she loses control completely...!"

The inhuman screech of the Other Mother, followed by the sudden rattling of the web's "threads," quickly remind the green-eyed brunette exactly why he passed out in the first place.

"Right," he nods, stuffing the button-eye into his pocket before starting to scale the web. "Let's go!"

Wasting no more time, the puppet and the teen climb towards the little door, not even pausing as the Beldam's violent thrashings make their task nearly impossible. Nothing will deter them now; not now, when victory is within their grasp...

The Other Wybie freezes as, when his counterpart drags himself into the passageway, everything becomes deathly still.

"Oh no," he whispers.

"What? What is it?" Wybie demands, helping to pull the living doll to safety—

A violent shudder from the room nearly throws the two of them back out.

"_Gah!_"

"She's transformed," the Other Wybie chokes, staring in horror back into the Other World. "_Look._ There she is..."

His stomach sinking already, the green-eyed teen somehow manages to follow his puppet-self's gaze.

"Oh god," he croaks, wide-eyed.

The tattered shell that had one been the Other Mother's body lies draped over thin metal wires, hanging limp like discarded clothing; over it stands a black being, darker than night, and with glowing white eyes. Though it bears a crude resemblance to a woman, its many thin, spidery legs swiftly carry it up, onto the webbed walls where it waits.

The inhuman shriek it emits reveals how truly monstrous it is.

"She's not even the Beldam anymore," the Other Wybie shivers, sliding farther away from the doorway. "That's her true form..."

"_That's_ what she really is?!" Wybie gasps, feeling the blood drain from his still-bleeding face. "She really _is_ a monster... Is there anything we can do to kill her?"

"No," the button-eyed brunette shakes his head, nearly paralyzed with fear. "She's so powerful like that, and now—now, she's feeding off the energy this world is radiating. The only way to kill her is to destroy this world, but that's...!"

"There has to be a way! After all she's done... I'm not going to let her live so she can kidnap more children and torture you anymore! Nobody deserves to have their lives ruined like that!"

In response to Wybie's declaration, the monster screeches, its glowing eyes fixated on the teen still looking into the Other World.

"She heard you..."

"Yeah.... Guess I said it loud enough, didn't I?" Wybie shrugs, looking around the room for something—_anything_—that could help him destroy what had once been the Other Pink Palace, and the Other Mother with it...

His eyes fall upon the fireplace, a short distance away and still holding a small blue fire within its hearth.

It takes him no more than a moment to scramble out of the corridor, climbing across the webbed floor towards the blue flames.

"_What are you doing?!_"

Shrieking horribly, the black monster scuttles over to him, rapidly gaining ground and ready to pounce—

"Beldam!"

It immediately spins in place, bright white eyes flashing red.

The Other Wybie struggles to hide his fear as he feels the creature's inhuman gaze fixate on him.

"You heard me!" the puppet shouts again, swallowing nervously before putting on as brave a face he can muster. "Beldam! I'm not afraid of you anymore, I'm not! You can't do anything to me anymore—!"

He jerks away as he once-vaguely human monster leaps towards the open door, reaching for him with several long, dark legs, but just barely missing.

_Don't be afraid,_ the Other Wybie tells himself, his hand brushing against Coraline's foot as he forces himself to sit up. _Don't be afraid...!_

While his copy draws the attention of the Beldam away from him, Wybie reaches the fireplace. Placing his ungloved left hand on the webbed wall for support, he pulls himself up, looking right into the flickering blue fire.

_This is going to hurt a lot_ is the last thought to run through his mind before he thrusts his right hand into the flames.

"_Aaaugh!_"

The monster turns its pupil-less eyes towards the screaming brunette...

Just in time to watch him slam his burning glove onto the webbed wall.

As the thin white threads are eaten up by blue fire, the black walls beneath them crumble away to dust.

Wybie nearly throws his burning glove off his hand, which is now red and painful. As the flames free his stuck hand from the crumbling wall, he grasps the metal web to keep his balance.

It starts to give away as the flames destroy the spider's web.

Screeching horribly, the monster pulls its front legs out of the tunnel, turning to pounce on the green-eyed teen—

The Other Wybie kicks her, knocking her over, and watches her tumble to the bottom of the sunken floor before turning his one-eyed gaze to his counterpart.

"_Hurry!_ There isn't much time!" he urges, beckoning to the wide-eyed teen. "Come on, before you're trapped here too!"

That's all he needs to hear; Wybie scrambles over as fast as he can, feeling the metal wires sag beneath his feet and hands. More black dust falls from the walls; the open door is just out of reach...

Just as the Other Wybe grabs his unburnt hand, he notices the thin, black, spidery legs wrapping around his shoulders, then feels a heavy weight pulling him down.

"_Augh!_"

The Beldam's shriek rings in his ear, making him cringe but not breaking his grip on the Other Wybie's arm.

The loud cracking sound from overhead makes him look up.

Nearly all the white webbing is gone; only a small border of it, still being devoured by fire, remains around the edge of the ceiling.

"The ceiling's going to collapse soon," Wybie gasps, seeing the deep cracks leaking a bright light. "That happened a lot faster than I thought it would...!"

"I can't pull you up! Not with her attached," the Other Wybie exclaims, trying to support the weight of both Wybie and the Beldam. "I can't hold you up much longer!"

As large chunks of ceiling fall from the sky, the teen can feel both his puppet-self's grip start to falter and the monster's weight dragging him further away from the tunnel, further away from freedom...

He looks down.

The web is still intact beneath him.

"...then let go of me!"

The Other Wybie stares.

"_What?_" he gapes, disbelieving what he's just heard.

"Let go of me," Wybie repeats, shuddering as the Beldam shrieks once more. "Do it, it's our only chance!"

"But you'll—"

"_Do it!_"

For a moment, it looks as though he refuses to let go...

"...f-fine."

The Other Wybie finds himself watching in horror as he releases the green-eyed teen, watching him and the Beldam plummet downward...

As soon as he feels himself falling, Wybie unbuttons his jacket, pulling his arms out of the sleeves before reaching out to grab the crumbling metal web once more.

He feels the web shake, then hears the monster's roar as she rips through the bottom of the web, plummeting down to the bottom of the abyss.

In her grasp, she holds onto the ruined black jacket.

Wybie has no time to watch the Beldam fall; with large pieces of black falling around him, he scales the web, reaching the open passage in a matter of moments...

He feels the Other Wybie pull him back in, then hears the door slam shut behind him.

The world around him rapidly fades from sight, replaced only by darkness...

* * *

(End chapter nineteen.

Possibly the most difficult chapter to write, given the hiatus.

**You can thank Best Buy for influencing chapter nineteen's arrival!**

Hopefully twenty won't take nearly so long to show up.

Please review!)


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